


Through the Dragon's eyes

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Swallowing, Crush at First Sight, Drinking & Smoking, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Implied Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Emily, Light Angst, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, Smuff, Smut, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-26 01:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: Hanzo lives tormented by his own past until he finds out his long lost brother Genji is alive and has forgiven him. The archer joins Overwatch to redeem himself and make up for lost time, but his life turns around when a certain cowboy crosses his path.





	1. Dragon Lord

**Author's Note:**

> This story will cover canon events since the recall in 2076 and takes place within the Canon Universe but, as I wanted to take certain liberties, I tagged it as a canon divergence.  
> I will add tags as I add chapters but there will be pieces of Genji/Mercy and mentions of Lena/Emily.  
> This is rated as Explicit (+18) because there will be smut and Explicit Sexual Content/Language that I will warn at the begining of every chapter.  
> English is not my mother tongue and this has not been beta-read.  
> I try to review my work thoroughly but there will be mistakes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo visits Hanamura on the tenth anniversary of his brother's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is obviously influenced by the animated short "Two Dragons", I believe it is a turning point in Genji and Hanzo's relationship and the dialogues are priceless, so I decided to start the fic here.

_Hanamura, 2076_

Spring was beautiful in Hanamura, even at night, with a cold breeze blowing and the cherry blossom trees dancing gracefully with it, the sound of the petals the only noise disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. It was his favorite season. The village was well known for the idyllic _hanami_ festival that took place every spring and brought many tourists to the area. A nice way to conceal himself, an advantage he had exploited in this yearly tradition. Hanzo observed, crouched above the big wooden structure that framed the main entrance to the Hanamura castle that once had been his home.

The blue kyudo-gi with a missing sleeve offered little warmth, but it was the attire required for what he was about to do. A quiver at his back and his bow in his hand. Hanzo had his long black hair, now sprinkled with silver strains gathered at the sides of his head, efficiently tied at the back by a yellow and blood-stained ribbon in a _seigaiha_ pattern. The same he had worn that day. A perpetual reminder of the blood he spilled.

He breathed in the familiar scent of his past home, even after so many years, it clenched his stomach and brought pleasant memories of his childhood. Memories he didn’t deserve but ones that he cherished and warmed his heart for a brief moment before the past swept through him cruelly.

 _I miss you, Genji_.

This was one of the few unwise decisions Hanzo took every year, on the same date: to infiltrate his old family house on the anniversary of his brother’s death. And today was the tenth anniversary. Ten long years since he had killed a part of himself forever, doomed his existence, stealing the life of his own brother in a power trip that fainted as soon as Genji had bled to death in his arms. Those loving eyes had looked at him with fear of dying too young, not believing the actions of someone he had trusted and loved since he was born.

Only then he had realized his mistake, running away from the Elders, from his fate, his responsibilities, his life, and Hanamura. He banished himself from the life that no longer belonged to him, one he paid the prize greatly and one he would not be a part of ever again.

 _Kinslayer,_ _seeking power you killed your brother_ , a disembodied double voice whispered in his head. After so many years the dragons still tortured him, overwhelmed by his own emotions and using them against him. They were never at peace with him whenever he came back to Hanamura.

Hanzo prowled silently inside the complex, embraced by the shadows and the Japanese Garden that welcomed the visitors. It was just how he remembered, an astonishing exhibition of power and opulence that laid empty and silent. Lifeless.

It had taken him a good deal to infiltrate the castle these past years, but security wasn’t heavy since the Shimada clan had been finally dismantled and deprived of its power and properties, conveniently distributed among the surviving crime lords in the scene. Without an heir, the empire consumed itself in greed, out of control, no spirit dragons to secure their position, and had fallen piecemeal irremediably.

Hanzo sighed, gathering strength in the dragons inside him, and sneaked through the main garden into the _tsuboniwa_. A naked cherry blossom tree welcomed him and announced the entrance to the great hall. He could have been the owner of all, responsible for an empire more powerful than Sojiro’s legacy and rule Hanamura with an iron hand. At least, that was the plan, what he was meant to do since he was born thirty-eight years ago.

Mixed feelings about his father set a lump in his throat; Hanzo had loved him, worshiped him, admired him. The perfect son and heir, pushing his own needs aside to please him; not like his brother, always with his mind set somewhere else. But after the death of his father he had felt lost without proper guidance, he had become distrustful and isolated, even from his brother Genji. Hanzo had trusted the wrong people, a mistake he won’t make again.

Their relationship had deteriorated in their teenage years, Genji getting away from his responsibilities too often and Hanzo assuming them as his own to please their father, who still favored his sparrow more than the sweat, pain, and tears of his unappreciated sacrifices.

Hanzo swallowed, eyes narrowing and breath calmed, just how his training had taught him. The great hall took his breath away, his resolve weakened crossing that doorstep every single time, a punishment for his actions, one he would endure again this year as he had done diligently for the past ten.

Firm steady steps towards the altar guided him, the ache of his pounding heart masked by the muffled noise of his feet on the _tatami_ . Hanzo tilted his head to look at the _kakejiku_ hanging in front of him, damaged in its left corner and stained with Shimada blood. His brother’s blood.

Bellow laid his old _katana_ , unaware of the pain it had inflicted in his hands. Dented and damaged forever. Just like himself. Exposed to whoever dared to enter the Hanamura castle these days to witness the bloodbath that had taken place there.

It all crumbled around the Shimada family that fateful day when he had taken his brother’s life in cold blood, slicing through his flesh with a sword he would never wield again. No blade would touch his hands no matter what. Little penance for his actions as he had sheltered himself in archery, always excelling at it more than his ability with the sword. Genji was the true swordsman.

Hanzo sat in _seiza_ position in front of the displayed sword, taking out from the pouch on his belt a bowl and incense he carefully placed in front of him. Then, he rummaged for something else, a sparrow feather that symbolized his brother and the nickname so endearingly his father granted Genji; and not Hanzo.

 _Sparrow_.

And the archer lit the incense stick, planting the unlit end in the bowl. Then he prayed to any god out there, trying to find peace and ease his troubled mind and aching heart. Honoring the death of the last member of his family and cursing himself deeply for being the one to have taken his life from him so early and so unfairly.

 _Without you, brother, I am lost_.

Hanzo swallowed his guilt and forbid himself to shed any tears. He didn’t deserve the relief, only the grief and the pain. A faint noise behind him and a tingling sensation in his nape alerted him of someone stalking him from a distance, and he opened his eyes and awoke the dragons, coating them with rage and fading away the sadness.

“You are not the first assassin sent to kill me,” Hanzo said in a steady voice that contrasted with the emotions roaring inside him. “And you will not be the last.” He carefully placed the incense bowl in front of him.

“You are bold to come to Shimada castle, the den of your enemies,” a voice said behind him.

“This was once my home,” Hanzo fumed, reaching for the bow at his left. “Did your masters not tell you who I was?” He shouted, turning around as fast as he could, wielding his bow and quickly fetching a pinpoint arrow at the mystery man.

“I know who you are. Hanzo.”

The man in front of him said his name with a hint hard to identify, a knowledge, a familiarity that ignited his rage like nothing had in a very long time. So Hanzo picked another arrow from his back and released it, aimed directly at the assassin’s heart, but he nimbly dodged it and the projectile pierced the tatami.

The cyborg’s armor seemed hard to punch, effectively attached to his attacker’s body. More like a part of him than a real armor. He was wearing a _katana_ at his back and a _wakizashi_ at his waist. Better not to risk a close fight, it’d be dangerous.

“You come here every year, on the same day. You risk so much to honor someone you murdered!”

Hanzo groaned and glimpsed the metallic shine right before he barely dodged three _shurikens_ thrown at him, interjecting them with one of his arrows. The sharp blades hammered into the wall behind him while his arrow fell smashed at his feet.

“You know nothing of what happened!” Hanzo yelled. He wasn’t sure why he was explaining himself. He was the only one allowed to be judge and executioner of his own actions. The archer drew his bow again and shot an arrow right at his target, who stopped it with his sword and escaped into the lower area of the small bridge that separated the hall from the _tsuboniwa_.

 _You can’t hide from me_.

Hanzo took one of his special arrows, his dragon tattoo burning in his arm as though it wanted to get out, but he found the strength to release the powerful scatter arrow that will split up and go through the assassin’s armor.

But the cyborg ninja was more skilled than he had anticipated, repelling the arrows one by one with his _wakizashi_ and a mastery that impressed him as much as infuriated him. The assassin jumped again on high ground and dashed near the balcony, sheathing the blade while a green light lured the archer to follow him.

Hanzo fell for it and climbed the stairs, the sight of the city of Hanamura, still breathtaking, but his eyes were looking for him. The assassin that wanted to run away from Hanzo Shimada. He would not let that happen.

“I know you tell yourself that your brother disobeyed the clan, and that you had to kill him to maintain order,” a voice said behind him, dangerously close. “That it was your _duty_.”

The pain came back. The guilt. The repent. It had been his track of thought once, the one that led him to murder his brother.

 _Kinslayer_ , the dragons roared.

“It was my duty,” Hanzo said, taking the two arrows left in his quiver. “And my burden.” Using one of them, he threw another attack, that the cyborg blocked gracefully. “That does not mean I do not honor him!” Hanzo yelled, grasping the grip with white-knuckle strength, feeling the fletching brush his cheek as he tensed the bowstring and released his last arrow.

One he couldn’t afford to miss.

The cyborg, far from scared, charged against the arrow, brandishing his _wakizashi_ and slicing the arrow in two without flashing. Hanzo groaned loudly, his frustration echoing in the terrace, and, not thinking clearly, he threw himself against the ninja swinging his bow as if it were a sword.

He launched strike after strike that cut the air because the ninja blocked and dodged swiftly all his futile attempts to struck him. Frustration grew inside him, a smoldering sensation reaching his cheeks, his lungs empty, unable to catch a sharp intake of air, extenuated.

But the cyborg ninja nimbly avoided his movements, not counterattacking, letting Hanzo get tired and exasperated, his actions sloppier every passing second until the assassin jumped and landed a rough hit in his chest with a mean kick.

Hanzo stumbled around his feet, his back hitting the wooden balustrade behind him, preventing him to fall down the edge. Then he saw the cyborg charge at him again, blade tightly gripped with both his hands, menacing to land a final blow.

He intercepted the _wakizashi_ with his bow, the tip of the sword dangerously close to his face. The archer clenched his teeth, his body tensed, the dragons roaring inside his mind, demanding blood, giving him a strength he did not have.

“You think you honor your brother Genji with incense offerings? Honor resides in one’s actions.”

Hanzo wondered who was behind the mask, daring to lecture him about his brother or his actions. There was anger in his voice, but the green light from his visor made impossible to look through his eyes, then Hanzo took a peek at an arrow grounded in the wooden floor of the terrace.

 _I have to reach it,_ _it is_ _the only way_.

“You dare to lecture me about honor? You are not worthy to say his name!” he replied, angry at the masked man that had him pinned down at the edge of the terrace. Hanzo grunted and used his bow to push his opponent and throw him across the room, darting for the last arrow.

He fixed his gaze on the cyborg facing him from a distance while he picked the projectile and his tattooed arm glowed in the most intense blue, the dragon printed on his skin peeking through the skin and twirling menacing while he drew his bow one last time.

“ _Ryū_ _ga_ _waga_ _teki_ _wo_ _kurau_!” Hanzo shouted, his voice mixed with the ones tormenting his mind. The mantra summoned the twin dragons of the south who growled proudly and eagerly following the path of the arrow and leaving a feeling of emptiness in his heart, momentary, but hurtful nonetheless.

“ _Ryūjin_ _no ken_ _wo_ _kurae_ _!_ ” the cyborg ninja shouted, unsheathing his _katana_ , that gleamed in the most intense green while he summoned the dragon of the north.

Hanzo’s jaw fell open, astonished at the unexpected vision in front of his skeptical eyes. The dragons reunited again.

_How is this possible?_

The two blue dragons twirled around the green one, greeting their brother; not a trace of anger or resentment against him. The pure sheer love between the three beasts illuminated the terrace while they circled the ninja and turned to face Hanzo. The dragons went right through him still immersed in their own resplendent and animalistic dance before disappearing into thin air.

Hanzo breathed heavily, the spirit dragons returning to the safe place in his chest, filling him with the joy they experienced, that soon vanished when he fell to his knees, trying to make sense of what was happening. Who was this… man? This being that had taken control of the spirit dragon. The noise of the ninja sheathing the _katana_ made Hanzo snap out of his reverie.

“Only a Shimada can control the dragons,” Hanzo said, staring at the floor in front of him before lifting his chin and glancing at the ninja. “Who are you?”

The ninja’s answer was a quick dash aside Hanzo, drawing his _wakizashi_ and stopping when the sharp blade threatened the archer’s neck. Hanzo tilted his head back, almost feeling the cold of the steel, his arms slackened back. He blinked, confused, not knowing if the imminent death had already caught up with him or not. His heart thumped fast, storming in his chest while the dragons remained calmed, not recognizing a threat.

Time slowed down, Hanzo was hyper-aware of everything around him. His own heart, his sped up breath, the dragons swirling soothingly inside him, the rude _wakizashi_ menacing his life. Unworthy life. It was about time. He deserved it.

“Do it then, kill me,” Hanzo said, accepting his fate, even wishing for it.

“No,” the ninja said, moving the sword away from his neck and sheathing it again. “I will not grant you the death you wish for. You still have a purpose in this life, brother.”

“No.” Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat, standing up in disbelief, picking up his bow again and facing the cyborg who had spared his life. It couldn’t be. “My brother is dead.”

Genji took off his mask after a clicking noise, looking directly at him. And those eyes. Hanzo recognized those eyes he had seen once lacking the life he, himself, had snatched from him ten years ago. His brother had scarring all over his face, his eyes older and wiser but it was him.

“Genji!” he gasped. “What have you become?” Hanzo said, his chest moving up and down, unsettled by the presence in front of him. The ninja put his mask back on before speaking.

“I have accepted what I am,” Genji said, closing the distance between them. “And I have forgiven you.” He placed a hand on his shoulder while Hanzo stared into the distance, trying to pull himself together.

Ten years believing he had killed his brother, ten long years of guilt and pain and it was even worse than just death, he had turned his brother into a monster, a cyborg, scarred and damaged forever.

“Now you must forgive yourself, Hanzo. The world is changing once again, and it’s time to pick a side,” Genji said, and Hanzo swore that he could see a smirk behind the mask, tinting his voice. His brother jumped into an adjacent roof to look at him from the distance and he felt judged by him.

He roared at Genji, fetching for a missing arrow nailed to a wall and drawing his bow again. “Real life is not like the stories our father told us. You are a fool for believing it so!” But the ninja had his back turned on him, glancing at the distance, infuriating him even more.

“Perhaps I am a fool to think that there is still hope for you, but I do,” Genji said, turning around to look at him, and Hanzo lowered his menacing bow, confused and overwhelmed at his words. He didn’t deserve forgiveness nor hope, he was beyond redemption.

“Think on that, brother,” the ninja said, disappearing in a cloud of grey smoke.

Hanzo stared at the void until the last twist of smoke vanished and the corner of his lip twitched upward. Repressing a smile, he breathed in and walked back to the main hall. The archer kneeled in _seiza_ again, the incense long consumed.

Genji was alive, his little brother. He was not the Genji he knew, but it was his brother. If filled his heart with mixed feelings about him, these past ten years, where had he been? who had saved Genji? Hanzo had to leave the castle soon, danger lingered between these walls.

He finished his prayers and picked up the bowl when he noticed a business card lying beside the feather, plain white paper with a circle-like logo in black and yellow and the word Overwatch. Hanzo frowned, turning around the card to find a message in Genji’s handwriting followed by a succession of numbers.

_Join us, brother_

_36°07'35.0"N 5°20'28.0"W_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be really appreciated.
> 
> I don't know where this story will take me as I've written only six chapters so far, but I love Overwatch, and Jesse and Hanzo are meant to be together <3
> 
> Also a sneak peek of Chapter 2:
> 
> “Hola, Joel,” a girl with beautiful tan skin materialized in the chair in front of him.  
> “Jesus Christ, you need to stop doin’ that,” McCree said, startled by the sudden appearance of Sombra. “And don't ya’ call me that, Olivia, unless ya’ want another hole in that pretty head of yours,” he joked.


	2. Calaveras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree has an important meeting.

_Castillo, Mexico, 2076_

Castillo was a dangerous district to wander alone at night, but no one would dare to mess around with someone like Jesse McCree. He fended for himself since he was fifteen years old. If someone wanted to mess with him, they would learn their lesson. He patted Peacekeeper, hidden under his _serape_ ; a comforting gesture he acquired over the years.

Los Muertos organization controlled the streets as the many graffiti and warnings in the walls stated, and McCree had a juicy bounty on his head. Calaveras was a haven for outlaws, a crummy joint where it was easy to go unnoticed; but he always got that tingling sensation at the back of his nape that someone might recognize him, and the corner of his lip twitched into a half-smile because McCree loved a bitter row.

McCree chose the path near the cliff to admire the sun going down on the beach and the beautiful city lights turning on at the imminent darkness. The cowboy learned to enjoy the little things, every sunset meant another day alive; you never know when you won’t be able to revel in one again. He raised a few eyebrows on his way to the bar, the usual, thugs thinking twice if he was worth the trouble. No one bothered him.

The red and yellow sign was the same, the name Calaveras on it followed by a cactus, so original it always made him roll his eyes and chuckle. His cowboy spurs clank on the stone floor like they would in a good cowboy movie, and he moved away his serape so everybody could admire Peacekeeper and think twice about messing with him.

A peek at the place was enough to check his contact person hadn’t arrived yet, so McCree approached the counter and asked for a beer to sate his thirst and a bottle of Jose Cuervo with two glasses. The place was just as he remembered, the wooden benches with those green and yellow cushions more comfortable than one would initially think -he lost count on how many times he had dozed there in the past- the row of bar stools, only two men drinking there in silence, and the display of liquors behind the counter.

He chuckled, remembering one brawl a long time ago when he had fired a warning shot at an ill-mannered patron; denting the shelf and probably the bastard’s arm too, just a warning shot.

“Gracias,” McCree said to the mesero, picking up the drinks and moving to a well-located, and luckily empty table, to lean back in the wall and watch the whole place.

McCree sipped the beer, and then his thirst made him gulp down half the mug in a heartbeat, letting out a happy sigh at the soft bitterness. The beer tasted better when you were thirsty. He poured a tequila shot that quickly washed the savor of the beer and burned his throat in the most pleasurable way. Well, not the most pleasurable, but it’ll do tonight.

“Hola, Joel,” a girl with beautiful tan skin materialized in the chair in front of him, a smug smile on her face.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop doin’ that,” McCree said, startled by the sudden appearance of Sombra. “And don't ya’ call me that, Olivia, unless ya’ want another hole in that pretty head of yours,” he joked.

“We want no one finding out who you really are, don’t we?” Sombra whispered, smirking and leaning casually on the table.

“Blondie now, huh?” McCree said, reaching to touch the long braid that fell down her shoulder and contrasted with the half-shaved head on the other side.

“I’m thinking blue next,” she shrugged, pouring two shots of tequila. “Qué onda? It’s been a while.”

“Can’t complain,” Jesse said, sipping his beer. “Been doin’ better, that’s for sure.” McCree was back in Overwatch and he couldn’t be more thankful. He had hit rock bottom when the recall happened.

“Ay pobrecito, I’m about to make you a little happier then,” she said, leaving a flash drive over the table. “I got what you asked.”

“Everythin’?” McCree said, smiling like the cat that got the cream when Sombra nodded. “Is it safe?”

“Por favor! Don’t belittle me, vaquero,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“All right,” McCree said, lifting his arms as an apology. “I need payback from the _incident_ on the hyper train. I don't appreciate when a felony is laid on me.”

“Does your not-so-new friends know about your plans?” Sombra teased.

“In due time,” McCree snorted, amused. Sombra was a friend to him, she liked to play with fire but so did he, and they had saved their sorry asses to each other a few times.

“I’m aware of the new addition to the team,” she said, casually circling the rim of the glass with her forefinger, knowing McCree wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Smartass, I bet I know more than ya’,” McCree bragged. “His brother is a good friend of mine.” He knew Genji since Blackwatch and he considered him his best friend.

“Tragic story with those two,” Sombra said. She had collected information about Hanzo Shimada, there was plenty from his past but he had been no more than a shadow for the last ten years.

“I must admit I’m curious ‘bout the guy,” McCree said, finishing his beer and staring silently at the table. “But killin’ your bub…”

“You’re no saint either,” Sombra said. The girl, always reluctant to judge without enough information.

“I don't trust new people, especially if they tried to kill a friend of mine.” McCree frowned at the smug smile on Sombra’s face. “Spit it out.”

“He’s in a flight to London right now,” Sombra said, smiling wider when McCree clicked his tongue. “He’s a sneaky one, took me a while to track him.”

“Ya’ got a little extra for me, darlin’?” McCree said.

Sombra handed him proudly a datapad with the information about Hanzo Shimada. McCree picked it up impatiently, turning the screen on as soon as it landed in his hands. He liked to have all the leverage in these situations; what to expect and how to put a bullet between his eyes if necessary. The first thing that showed up on the device was a photograph of Hanzo in his twenties.

“Damn,” the cowboy said, gulping down another shot of tequila that Sombra kindly served.

“Guapo, huh?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows at him, who missed it, enchanted by the black eyes of the young man on the screen. “No recent pictures, though, as I said, he’s a sneaky one.”

McCree turned the datapad off, determined to go through everything once he was in his hotel room. He knew what Genji had told him about his brother, the power trip, the Elders, the criminal organization. But he couldn’t understand why he wanted to see his brother again and make amends with someone that had killed him in cold blood. McCree had no family left, and if his parents were still alive, he wasn’t sure he would pay them a visit to apologize for running away. He kept the device along with the flash drive.

“Ay claro, you can keep it,” Sombra complained. “But it will turn into a nice paperweight in a few hours.”

“Thank you kindly, sweetheart,” he said, leaving on the table enough pesos to pay for the drinks and the silence of the mesero who would never acknowledge they were even there.

“Already?” Sombra said, following McCree out of the bar and into the streets.

“I’ll walk ya’ home,” he said, winding an arm around her shoulders while Sombra linked his waist.

They walked in silence most of the way, enjoying each other’s company. McCree had few friends but the ones that filled his heart were like family to them. Sombra was in a nasty position, juggling between Talon, Overwatch and Los Muertos, and it worried him deeply if the three organizations figured out the triple game she had between her hands. But she was damn good at her job, erasing her tracks and helping Overwatch more than Winston would ever want to admit publicly.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Sombra asked, concern settling into her voice. She knew Jesse too well, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had slept in a bench or a forgotten stool in a bar.

“Shitty room a couple of blocks from here, don't ya’ worry,” McCree said, repressing a smile at the sigh of disappointment from Sombra. He would love to spend more time with her, catch up with silly things and talk until dawn, but it was too dangerous and there was a lot at stake.

“Don’t do anything crazy with the information I gave you, not on your own,” she warned him. It was true she took risks feeding Overwatch, but she understood the global situation and the dangers involved. Sombra wanted to help.

“Ain’t ya’ worry about me an’ take care of yourself,” McCree said, brushing her arm. “Ya’ can always come with me. I’ll explain. It’ll be fine.”

The first time he had asked Sombra to join Overwatch, the same day of the recall, she laughed so hard that stumbled on her ass, but he kept trying, it was the safest place and she could do so much good as a permanent asset, even sacrificing the priceless information on Talon.

“It won’t work,” she sang softly, knowing it was the same thing she repeated to him over, and over again. “They would never trust me, and I’m more useful like this.”

“Just be careful,” McCree said, recognizing the last corner that led to her building. Sombra was someone you could rely on, but she kept secrets of her own. Dangerous ones.

“I like danger, vaquero,” Sombra chuckled, freeing herself from his embrace and meeting his gaze. She was pretty. Too pretty to be that smart and to have suffered that much in her life. They met after Overwatch disbanded five years ago, a moment in his life where he felt lonely and abandoned by all he had known since he was seventeen. They stopped in front of her door. It was a safe place and Sombra trusted him enough to let him into her life which he appreciated.

“You look sad, Jesse,” Sombra said with a smirk on her face. “I could cheer you up.” McCree could never tell if she was serious or not. It wasn’t the first time she had hit on him; they used to flirt a lot when they first met, but neither of them acted on it and, eventually, it stayed in a friendship. Though he suspected the girl had a bit of a crush on him, god knows why.

“Ya’ flatter my ol’ cowboy ass, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his hat.

“You’re no fun,” Sombra pouted and McCree kissed her forehead. “Don’t spend too much on your own, vaquero, you’ll end up bitter and sad, it doesn’t suit you.” She giggled, disappearing into the doorway with the last word still lingering on her lips.

“Bless your heart, Olivia,” McCree yelled, shaking his head and snuggling into his serape. The night was chilly, and he still had a long walk ahead to his hotel. He wanted to be back at Gibraltar, it wasn’t safe here. Too many eyes and enemies.

 

McCree closed the door to his hotel room with a kick, his hands full juggling with the _pambazo_ sandwich and the bottle of beer that would be his dinner. He placed the goods on the nightstand, little beads of water damping the surface, taking off his hat and serape and getting rid of the boots with a satisfying grunt. Then, McCree threw himself on the bed and took a moment to stare at the ceiling, but before the slumber could hit him he sat, reclining on the headboard.

“Let’s see who you really are, Hanzo Shimada,” he mumbled, reaching for the datapad. He rested the device on his right knee and picked up the delicious sandwich waiting for him, opening the wrapper and taking a mouthful of the shredded pork, beans, cheese, and that chile sauce he loved.

The perfect image of a young Hanzo stared at him from below, and McCree stared back at his face while chewing his dinner, taking another bite before swallowing.

 _Pretty thing_ _, indeed_.

McCree scrolled down, reading over the extensive amount of information, most of it he already had a sense. Hanzo mastered the bow and the sword and trained as an assassin for the Shimada family. Born and raised to be a crime lord, the heir that would take over the world. The eldest son of Sojiro Shimada, but not his favorite, according to Genji.

_Poor thing, I almost feel for you._

When their father died, Hanzo took over the empire as instructed, and then nothing new. Right into his brother’s assassination. Genji rejected his father’s legacy, and it was the reason why Hanzo _killed_ him. But the cowboy wanted more, that wasn’t enough and didn’t explain why he ran away after, abandoning what he rightfully earned. With Genji dead there were no loose ends.

_If you were such a greedy bastard why did you run away?_

McCree licked his fingers, his mouth burning hot by the sauce, and scrolled up to take a peek at the photo again. The beer almost slipped from his hand when he reached for it without taking his eyes from Hanzo, babbling a curse before opening the bottle and gulping down half of it, taking away the tingling from the chile sauce.

He sighed, annoyed, and scrolled down again to keep reading. Nothing about Hanzo’s past was particularly enlightening; a criminal organization took care of the details so it would never see the public eye, and if there was no record of it, Sombra wouldn’t be able to find it online. There was something strange though, records of someone sneaking into the Shimada castle every year on Genji’s death anniversary.

 _Why did you visit the grave of someone you_ _killed_ _?_ _That makes little sense._

And he had been doing it for ten years. McCree scrolled up again trying to understand his motive. Hanzo was beautiful, powerful. No facial hair, a strong jaw, thick neck, long black hair presumably tied at his back, but black bangs framing the sides of his face. Strong eyebrows that fit the death-threatening look in his eyes a little too well. There was a harmony on his face as though every single detail added to the innate beauty of his profile.

_Ya’ were damn cute._

He scrolled again to the last pieces of the document, these past ten years Hanzo had been nothing more than a ghost, appearing once a year and disappearing again into thin air. Though Sombra located him at the Haneda Airport in Japan in a flight to London, and Hanzo booked another flight to Gibraltar two days after his arrival in the United Kingdom.

McCree knew Genji had forgiven his brother, he had told him many times. They had spoken about it over the years, but when the ninja confessed he wanted to go to Hanamura to find his brother and invite him to join Overwatch, McCree got angry. “Why would you want someone like that back?” And the simplicity of Genji’s answer struck him: “He is my brother.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. McCree was in Blackwatch when they brought Genji broken and barely alive, the things Dr. Ziegler and her team had to do to him, the long months until he was a person again and joined the team. McCree loved Genji way too much to see him suffer again in the hands of a brother that didn’t deserve his love.

Hanzo Shimada had been also an enemy of the now gone Shimada clan. When he ran away, they sent assassins to kill him, his actions perceived as a betrayal. At least the organization died in the hands of Overwatch with the help of Genji. Even McCree visited Hanamura and made it to the news. He chuckled softly at the memory, those were good old times, and the cowboy hoped after the recall they could look forward to more good memories and more good times together.

McCree realized he was staring at Hanzo’s face all this time, and his lip twitched up when he noticed the pointy nose, wondering how would his face look if he smiled because Hanzo was the sheer image of despair in that picture. His eyes weren’t angry, they looked sad and dull, empty inside or maybe filled with unreachable expectations from someone else.

_Who are you, Hanzo Shimada?_

The screen went plain black and a purple glowing skull appeared. McCree frowned, it wasn’t the first time Sombra teased him, but then his jaw dropped and he snorted.

 _You’ve been peering at that photo for a while, vaquero! Hasta_ _lueguito_ _!_

And as Sombra promised, the datapad was nothing more than a paperweight resting on his knee. He tossed it on the floor, taking off his shirt and unbuckling his belt and jeans, dropping them with the rest of his belongings with a grunt.

McCree should probably take a shower but he decided that was a task for his future self, and his future self will hate him in the morning. He would also love to take off his prosthetic to sleep, but not in an unsafe place. That was a comfort taken at home and only home.

McCree closed his eyes and dozed away with a faint smile on his lips. It had been a while since he had called home anywhere, and even if he’d been at Watchpoint Gibraltar only a few months, it already felt like home with the old team back together, and the new additions. They will do something good again. Only now they would have another trained assassin he wasn’t sure about in the team, someone too new and foreign. A mystery to solve, and yet another task for his future self.


	3. Have Mercy on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji has a plan and Hanzo gets a makeover.

_London, 2076_

After his encounter with Genji, Hanzo replayed their conversation in his mind until he knew it by heart, weighing the words his brother had dropped on him. They spoke about hope and a future for both, a peace he still thought he didn’t deserve but one he wanted badly. A second chance. That night he hadn’t been able to sleep, and he watched the dawn with new eyes. Hopeful eyes. Hanzo had made up his mind and he would join Overwatch.

After a long flight, Hanzo arrived at his hotel in London. He would take another plane soon to Gibraltar, where the coordinates Genji had left him pointed, but he had two days to relax and ease his rambling mind. The archer lay exhausted on the bed, wearing only his boxers, with a hand in his stomach and another in the back of his head, staring at the darkness.

He will stop wandering around the world. Ten years had been enough for a penance that made no sense now. His brother was alive. He cried then, like an inconsolable child, like he had cried when he killed Genji and while he washed the blood from his hands. The reflection in the mirror had scared him deeply, realizing the vastness of his actions. A shiver ran through his spine at the memory.

Hanzo wanted to fix the relationship with his brother by joining him. He knew about Overwatch, what they wanted to achieve and the hard burden they carried over their shoulders. He would pay for his sins helping others. Helping his brother. Taking back the time he, himself, had stolen from them.

He turned to a side, he always had trouble falling asleep, insomnia or nightmares would keep him awake most times, but tonight it was his mind the one wouldn’t let him get some shut-eye. Hanzo was going through the past ten years of his life, traveling and perfecting his skills as a warrior and an assassin; it did not bring him peace of mind or heart, but those abilities he had honed will be useful to Overwatch, so maybe he had a hidden purpose all these years that had just revealed itself, as Genji had said, there was still hope for him, was it?

And Genji had beaten him in their fight, Hanzo chuckled softly, as their father used to say: defeat is the first step to a better result. His smile died promptly with a sigh, he seemed unworthy of the warmth that filled his heart thinking about his brother. “Forgive yourself,” Genji had said, but that would be hard to achieve. Hanzo yawned, the jet lag finally helping him to get a much-deserved rest. His lasts thoughts were for Genji and the life that awaited him, he had something to long for and he would not waste this opportunity.

 

 _Meanwhile in_ _Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar_

Genji prowled near the medical wing considering whether to leave as the coward he was or to ask her on a date like he wanted since they had met again after the recall. He was walking in front of the closed door, from one side to the other, risking a casual peek inside through the glass.

Angela, or Dr. Ziegler as he shyly referred to her, had been the field medic in Overwatch and now was the Head of Medical Research and took over the medical care of the crew and members of the organization. Also, she was the one that nursed him back to health when Overwatch rescued him from an imminent death. And Genji had a huge crush on her since then, never acting on his feelings.

The ninja wasn’t concerned about his physical condition, his body was part human, part mechanical, and though he was now at peace with his existence thanks to his mentor Zenyatta, dating again was something completely different, therefore, it scared him to death.

His prosthetics were cutting edge, and he was alive and thankful for them, he could take his cyborg armor off when he wasn’t on duty and only his right arm and the plates that covered the right half of his chest and stomach were permanent and necessary additions for his survival. There were several plugs and wires in his column and his nape but he could wear civilian clothes and, even if his face had scarring, he brightened up his looks with a bold green hair.

Genji couldn’t tell what was so terrifying about asking her out, but it was. The door opened, startling him while a stupid grin came up to his face at the sight of Angela.

“Hello there,” Angela said, with the sweetest of smiles, waiting patiently for Genji to say something instead of staring. “I was going to grab a coffee, care to join me?”

“Yes,” Genji said.

“Right beside you.”

Genji walked by her side to the mess hall, luckily the facilities were mostly empty, only Winston, Angela, and the rest of the crew because Lena and Jesse were on a mission, and Hanzo hadn’t arrived yet. And well, not everybody answered the recall or were somewhere else, but in contact, like Fareeha Amari who worked at Helix Security. He watched while Dr. Ziegler poured a mug of coffee from this morning’s pot and sighed, offering it to him.

“Arigato yo,” Genji said, puzzled at the worried face. “Something the matter?” Angela fixed a mug for herself and sat on the couch with another deep sigh leaving her lips and making Genji blush slightly.

“It’s about Jeff…” Angela sighed. “Again.”

“The Valkyrie suit?” Genji asked, knowing the crew member Jeff, part of the engineering team here on Gibraltar, had serious concerns about Mercy’s battle suit and wanted to optimize the efficiency with minor changes, that ended up being drastic and Angela wasn’t comfortable with them.

“I’m not performing at a hundred percent with the _changes_ ,” she complained.

“Your healing skills on the battlefield are impressive, Dr. Ziegler,” Genji said, trying to lighten up her mood.

“The boost on the healing is fine, that I can reach more of you at the same time with the caduceus staff is amazing, I have to admit that,” Angela said.

“It is one’s ability that counts, not the weapon in our hands,” Genji wisely said, waiting for the _but_ that was coming.

“But, when I need to inspect a comrade,” she rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’m really, and I mean, really slowed down by the new software implemented in the suit, I can barely move while I’m healing you!”

“We got your back, do not worry,” Genji smiled, but Angela seemed angrier as she spoke.

“I needed no one covering me before; I had more range, more movement, and I could swiftly check your wounds and send the nanobots exactly where wanted almost immediately.” Genji opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he realized Angela wasn’t finished. “Now I need more than a second and a half, can you believe it? Just to check your wounds, not to mention I have to stand still, vulnerable to enemy fire because you know what? Jeff also decided I didn’t need the shielding software I had before, I feel vulnerable and that makes the whole team weak.”

“You can still fly pretty high on your own, that’s a good thing, right?”

“It is not enough, my main skills are healing battle wounds in record time and getting you up ready to fight as soon as possible not fly faster with that impressive blaster in my hand. I honestly feel useless.”

“You just need to…”

“Adapt?” Angela glared at him. “Sometimes I’m not sure why I even bother.”

“Because you are the kindest person I know, and you always do your best to keep us safe,” Genji blushed at his own words, but his praise fell on deaf ears.

“I believe Jeff doesn’t like me at all. I swear to you I’m not letting that man near my Valkyrie suit ever again. What would be next? Cutting my wings off?” Angela complained, frustrated and exasperated. This was definitely not the time to ask for a date.

“You’re a professional, Dr. Ziegler, and I feel better when you are looking out for us,” Genji said.

“Oh well, the damage is already done there’s nothing I can do about it but… _adapt_ ,” Angela wryly said. She sipped her coffee, and Genji did the same, staring awkwardly at his own mug and feeling sorry for himself and his failed try. Worst timing ever.

“I am sorry, Genji, you wanted to talk and I’ve been sitting here complaining,” Angela said, the sweet smile returning to her face and a friendly hand on his knee that made him flinch.

“It’s nothing, I wanted to spend time with you,” Genji said, smiling back at her.

“Has your brother arrived yet?”

“No, he will be here tomorrow, hopefully.” Genji was genuinely excited at Hanzo’s arrival. He had been honest when he said he had forgiven him; all those years accepting himself and his new body made him realize things were not always black or white. Hanzo will always be his brother, they both had changed, and they deserved a new opportunity.

“Are you nervous?” Angela asked, rubbing his knee tenderly.

“I am,” Genji admitted. “But I believe in him, and he has to forgive himself and go on with his life. Everybody deserves a second chance.” His idealism drove his life even after all he had to endure.

“Your time with your mentor Zenyatta and the Shambali have turned you into a very wise man, Genji,” Angela said proudly, messing his hair in a too friendly way for the ninja’s liking, worried that she would only see him as a mere friend and nothing else.

“I should get back to work,” Dr. Ziegler said, sighing.

“And I should return to my training,” Genji said, standing. “I will take care of this.” The ninja picked up the empty mugs.

“Danke!” Dr. Ziegler said, waving a goodbye.

Genji washed the mugs in the sink, sighing at yet another failed attempt at asking her out. Where was Jesse McCree when he needed advice? He placed the mugs back in the cupboard, chuckling at Angela’s and the “Self Medicating” statement printed on it. Genji would need all the strength he could gather for tomorrow.

 

_Back to London_

The city was bursting with activity at the imminent arrival of Tekhartha Mondatta to London, the omnic wanted to establish peace between humans and robots, and he will give a speech at King’s Row tomorrow night. Hanzo won’t be around, his flight was tomorrow in the morning and he would arrive at Gibraltar by midday. But he wasn’t sure what to think about the omnics, he didn’t know any and, well, Hanzo Shimada didn’t take other’s opinions as his own.

Besides, his mind was somewhere else these days. He didn’t consider himself easily rattled, but he was nervous to see Genji again. Pushing all that at the back of his head, he closed the newspaper he was reading and finished his coffee. It was slightly raining, but he liked the rain, and being on his own where no one knew him and he could just be a normal person for a while, enjoying a coffee in peace and spending time by his own.

Hanzo asked for the check, staring out the window and at the naughty raindrops gathering on it. He sighed, resting his head on his hand while leaning on the table. This could go awfully wrong, joining Overwatch could be a huge mistake, he wasn’t a vigilante or a hero, Hanzo was an assassin, an experienced one, and he found hard to believe Overwatch wanted someone like him.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said to the waiter, paying for his drink. He put on his military green jacket and rolled the newspaper, tucking it under his armpit, but seriously considering ruining the paper and his future reading material for tonight at the rain now pouring openly on the streets.

His hotel wasn’t far from there, so Hanzo wrapped himself up in the jacket and rushed under the rain, sheltering whenever he could on his way there. On a side street near his hotel he spotted a barber shop, and, even if he was soaking wet, the prospect of spending the rest of his evening alone in a small hotel room didn’t appeal much, and he could use a beard trim.

 _Ted’s Grooming Room_ stated the sign on the door. The placed seemed fancy and neat and caught his eye. It had been a while since he had pampered himself, and it would relieve the stress of the travel and the day that awaited him tomorrow. The bell on the doorstep announced his arrival as soon as he closed the establishment door behind him.

“Good evening,” a young man in his twenties greeted Hanzo, leaving his place behind the counter and reaching for a towel, offering it to him with a polite smile. “Did you book an appointment?”

“I am afraid I have not,” Hanzo said, drying himself as best as he could.

“It’s alright if you don’t mind waiting for a while. Tony is about to finish with a client and will be available for you,” he said, pointing at a man at the farthest corner of the establishment, razor in hand. “May I have your name?”

“Shimada Hanzo.”

“Exotic, Mr. Shimada. My name is Steve, give me your coat and I will lead you to your seat,” he said, helping him with the coat while he followed the man to a barber chair. He sat, relishing in the crackling of the leather under his weight and the smell of the place.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said, keeping his newspaper just in case.

“What’s it going to be?”

“Just a trim,” Hanzo said, and Steve chuckled softly.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Tony will be with you in no time.”

Hanzo knitted his eyebrows but didn’t give a second thought. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt his thirty-eight years old very heavy on him suddenly. The lights of the place accentuated the sideburns and silver strands of hair, and his beard had seen better times too, he thought while scratching the base of his jaw.

Hanzo had a lot on his plate to care about his personal appearance. Last weeks had been hectic, he didn’t allow himself a moment of rest or peace, first with the upcoming anniversary of his brother’s death and then his encounter with Genji and Overwatch’s offer. It was all too much.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Shimada. My name is Tony and I will be your hairdresser.” A voice said at his back, distracting him. He made eye contact with the man behind him through the mirror. The hairdresser was cute, his hair long on the top and shorter on the sides. He wore a prominent beard that complemented his look and gave him a sexy edge. Hanzo surprised himself blushing at the thoughts in his mind and cleared his throat before speaking.

“My pleasure.” To say he was rusty was something.

“Steve told me you only wanted a trim,” he said, and Hanzo nodded. “May I suggest… a haircut too?” Hanzo hesitated. “May I?” Tony asked politely, wanting to free Hanzo’s hair from the tie.

Hanzo nodded again, and the black sea of his hair fell down his shoulders gracefully, or as gracefully as it could, considering it was still damp. The hairdresser loosened it with his hands, and the soft touch of someone else’s fingers on his scalp sent a shiver through his spine.

“What do you think?” Hanzo asked, masking his nervousness with a weird twitch of his lip that could pass as a smile, and Tony chuckled, still running his hands through Hanzo’s hair.

“You have beautiful hair, Mr. Shimada, and it suits you dreadfully well,” he said in a flirty tone Hanzo hadn’t heard in a very long time and he was not the one to take compliments easily. How could he kill a man in cold blood putting an arrow into his heart from a long distance and then blush at a praise from a hairdresser?

“How would you feel about cutting the sides, getting rid of the white hairs?”

“They _do_ make me older, right?”

“They look amazing on you, but you look like someone who’s starting something new and exciting, am I right?” Tony said, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe,” Hanzo gave him a lopsided smile.

“That’s worth a new look, and it will be easy to keep with a handy razor at home. I’ll leave it long at the top so you can let it loose or in a bun, your choice.” The man pushed the locks over his shoulders and they framed his profile. “Perfect.”

“Just so,” Hanzo said, giving Tony carte blanche.

 

Back at the hotel, Hanzo looked at himself in the mirror, amazed by the man on his reflection; his strong-built torso, the dragon tattoo on his left arm and now the new haircut. Hanzo smirked and frowned, tilting his head to the sides to admire the bun that held the length of his hair while the rest was neatly shaved. Tony had been flirting with him the whole time at the barber shop, and it busted his self-esteem a little too much, especially when he had left the place, and a business card with Tony’s personal number slipped within his change.

Hanzo threw the number away, there was no time for such banalities with more imminent problems to face than an encounter with a stranger, tempting as it was. Hanzo banished long-term relationships from his life when he realized at a very young age he was the heir of a criminal empire, and his situation had gotten no better being a paid assassin. He was no monk, but all he cared about now was Genji and to make up for lost time.

For a very long time Hanzo had struggled with who he was and the purpose of his life. He didn’t want his past to define him because he regretted deeply what he had done to his brother and the last ten years had been meaningless and empty to say the least. But now… _Who do I want to be?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a crying Mercy main, I know, I know...


	4. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo arrives at Watchpoint: Gibraltar

_Gibraltar, 2076_

The familiar noises of the airport brought Genji bad memories while he waited for Hanzo to get off the plane. Genji didn’t like airports or flying. It had been his idea to pick Hanzo up to spend time alone with him and have a chance to talk before getting right into business with Winston and the others. Hanzo will have time to adjust his expectations and brush the awkwardness off.

Genji hoped his brother recognized him, the last time they had met he was wearing full armor, and he barely lifted his mask for a brief moment. He enjoyed that, despite he should’ve not, the surprise in Hanzo’s face and that spark of glee at knowing he was alive. That filled his heart with hope, even after their fight and the harsh words, his brother was still there and he knew Hanzo regretted deeply what he had done to him, his actions vouched for him and he had accepted his offer without second thoughts. That had to mean something.

He spotted a familiar figure walking into the arrival hall and Genji couldn’t repress a teasing smile at his brother’s new haircut. They saw each other less than two weeks ago and he was already so different. Genji smiled wider when Hanzo hesitated for a moment, recognizing him and bowing slightly his head to greet him from a distance.

They were both nervous; they had to be, their past was not something easy to overcome, it wouldn’t happen from one day to another. Hanzo tightened the grip on his leather bag and the bow case, that he had checked in as sports archery material, though his bow didn’t exactly fit those requirements.

Hanzo tried to mask his surprise as best as he could when he saw Genji without the armor, wearing a grey hoodie and jeans like any other person there. His heart thumped uncontrollably in his chest fearing he was dreaming. The prospect of waking up again to a living nightmare where his brother was still dead and his hands soaked in blood felt too real.

“You always liked bright colors,” Hanzo said, looking at the garish green of Genji’s hair, remembering it was really as black as his, and the first time he had come home with his hair dyed and father had choked on his dinner in laughter. He wondered what might have happened if he had been the one coming home like that.

“Welcome,” Genji said. This morning’s meditation worked but his resolve cracked the moment he opened his mouth. “I like your new hair.”

“Thank you, I still hate yours,” Hanzo teased, testing the waters.

Genji chuckled and reached for his bag as a polite gesture. Airports had that effect almost on everyone, they were weird places, transit places that don’t belong to anyone, with a weird aura you just want to leave behind the moment you step out of the plane.

And, indeed, the moment they sat in the car next to each other things relaxed. Hanzo didn’t mind the silence, in fact, he enjoyed it. He was the kind of person who didn’t need to fill every second with an endless banter.

Genji drove in silence, they would arrive soon, it was a short drive and the main road provided a direct access hidden to civilians but recognizable to the ones working there. He risked glances at Hanzo, who was a bit overwhelmed by the warm weather and the sun burning through the windows of the car.

Hanzo was still curious, wanting to ask about Genji’s physical condition but at the same time not wanting to sound impolite or inappropriate, his doubts could perfectly wait. Though seeing him without his armor had been a relief, knowing the damage he had done had been repaired somehow to grant him a normal life. The tingling of the dragons at the back of his nape bothered him, they had been quiet these past days, until this morning, it was like they woke up to creep his nerves.

“You must have a thousand questions,” Genji said, as though he was reading his mind. And Hanzo wondered if the dragon inside him was just as insistent and rebellious as his own.

“I do, but I do not know how to ask them without making you uncomfortable,” Hanzo said.

“Don’t worry about that, Hanzo,” Genji said, taking a peek at his brother and reading the concern in his eyes.

“Your wounds and the armor,” Hanzo said, trying to form a question hard to make.

“I will leave the medical technicalities aside, you can check them with Dr. Ziegler if you’re interested,” Genji said, looking at the road while speaking. “For the most part, the right side of my body is mechanical, from my waist, chest and right arm. There are prosthetics inside my column to help me heal faster and connect the nerves so I have complete control over my nonhuman parts.”

“I understand,” Hanzo said, frowning, realizing he might not have killed his brother that day but the damage in his body was permanent and it had changed Genji’s life forever. A constant reminder of his actions, of the grim reality he had caused.

“As I said, I am in peace with what I am, and I have accepted this body as my own,” Genji explained, sensing his brother’s concern.

“I can see the exterior changes are not the only ones you have experienced,” Hanzo said, noticing the maturity in his brother’s words.

“I will tell you all about it, we will have time.”

“Genji,” Hanzo swallowed. “I do not deserve this second chance, but I cannot express how happy I am you are alive,” Hanzo said, getting the words out of his chest because he had wanted to say them since he had found out.

“I know,” Genji smiled at him.

They spent the rest of the drive in silence, and soon, Hanzo and Genji were already in front of the main building. Watchpoint base had impressed the archer, the buildings were part of the mountain, embedded in them or built around it. The facilities were impressive, on their way there he had the chance to walk through the hangar and the comm tower, and he was sure there was a lot more to explore.

For the first time in years, Hanzo felt excited about something, even if he still had doubts lurking his mind, this was a chance at redemption. And before he could process it, they were in front of Winston’s office.

The building contained the private rooms on the second floor, the common hall on the main floor with a huge tire hanging from the cellar by a rope; and Winston’s office, in the farthest corner of the second floor, with a perfect view of the comm tower and the path they had walked to get there.

When they got inside Hanzo snorted at the considerable amount of peanut butter jars casually piled up on a side of the desk, framed by four big screens showing an impressive amount of data. Hanzo knew Winston from the news since he had first become a member of Overwatch, but he was curious about meeting a super-intelligent gorilla and one of the brightest scientists of the last years.

“Hello,” a deep voice spoke behind him and Genji. Hanzo turned around to face Winston, surprised at the size of the gorilla in front of him, but not threatened at all by that friendly inviting expression on his face.

“Shimada Hanzo,” he said, bowing his head respectfully.

“There’s no need, oh, nice to meet you, Genji has told me a lot about you and your abilities,” Winston said, cleaning his glasses, which looked way too thin and fragile for those big hands. Hanzo looked at Genji and he placed his hands innocently on his back, just like when they were kids.

“Sorry it’s such a mess in here, we had an _incident_ _recently_ and we’re still fixing things around,” Winston said, pointing the big hole in the inside glass.

“Winston had a not-so-friendly visit right before he decided to message all former agents,” Genji explained. “Overwatch has enemies.”

“Indeed,” Winston nodded. “A Talon operative known as Reaper invaded the facilities trying to extract the data of all Overwatch agents to assassinate them, presumably.”

“That was a bold move,” Hanzo said.

“I reinstated Overwatch officially after that, I don’t like to call myself commander or anything like that but I guess I am in charge,” Winston said.

“We are a team, Winston, but we trust your leadership,” Genji pointed.

“Before you decide if you want to join us or not, you need to understand, Mr. Shimada, that we are an illegal organization and, our actions would be deemed illegal in accordance with the Petras Act and, if caught as an Overwatch agent, you will be prosecuted.”

“I am aware of the situation and I am willing to take the risk. I want to help,” Hanzo said.

“Very good, I’m looking forward to working with you,” Winston said, extending a hand to Hanzo, who took it gladly, though the shake could qualify as awkward by the difference in size of their hands.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said, glancing at Genji, who was smiling. His brother was genuinely happy at having him there. He suddenly realized that Genji probably considered this people his family after they rescued him.

“We are operating secretly, but I don’t know how long we will be able to lurk in the shadows without our presence being noticed internationally due to the nature of our… _operations_ ,” Winston said, a knowing look in his eyes.

“If there are any requirements, I would be glad to…” Hanzo said.

“There is one, in fact,” a feminine voice interrupted him from the doorstep. “I need you to come by the Medical Wing so I can perform the necessary routine analysis for any new Overwatch agents.”

“Hanzo, let me introduce you to Dr. Angela Ziegler, head of medical research and field medic as well,” Genji said, and Hanzo swore he had seen his brother blush in the presence of this woman.

The doctor was beautiful, blue eyes, blonde hair tied up in a short ponytail and a beautiful accent. Hanzo tilted his head. “My pleasure, Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo said, looking at her and suspecting she wouldn’t be as friendly as Winston.

“Here,” Winston said, handing him a device that resembled a typical phone. “This has your agent ID, useful information about our manifesto, though it is very rudimentary for the moment, and you can contact Athena, our AI system, or any of our members.”

“It is like a phone, really,” Genji said.

“But untraceable and unhackable,” Winston added and Angela cleared his throat in the background. “Yes, you can go with Angela now, we will have more time later to talk.”

“Thank you again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Winston,” Hanzo said, joining Angela at the doorstep while Genji patted his shoulder on his way out.

“See you later,” Genji said, staying with Winston.

Hanzo and Angela walked in silence to the ground floor while he tried to process all that was happening, trying to remember where was everything and the information he had just received. The place was pretty empty, probably not all agents were stationed at the base. Lucky for him, he hated meeting too many people at the same time; it was hard enough as it was to be in a new place and sharing common areas with people he barely knew.

The Medical Wing was well placed at the back and, as they got inside, he inspected the spacious room and the well-equipped laboratory. There were stretchers for recovery, medical equipment, a lab area and also what he assumed would be a sterilized room for surgery.

“Please, take a seat and take off your jacket,” she said, pointing at the examination area.

Hanzo did as ordered, not that he would dare to contradict the doctor, she seemed like a very strict and organized professional, experienced in his field and, judging by the grimace on her face, she knew about him more than Hanzo about her.

When she turned, her gaze went right to the dragon tattoo on his left arm, Hanzo was wearing a black shirt underneath that let his arm and his muscles show in all the right places. Angela finally looked at him and a glimpse of a polite smile crept across her face.

“I need to collect a blood sample for my analysis,” Dr. Ziegler said while Hanzo nodded. “It is just a check out I perform on everyone so I can guarantee you’re healthy to join us on the battlefield.” She said that like they were fighting a war that hadn’t started yet.

“Do as you must,” Hanzo said, expecting the politeness and the silence to fill the consultation.

“You know, I was there the whole time, with Genji,” Angela said casually, focused on her task.

Hanzo knew what she meant that she had been with Genji ten years ago when he had murdered him in cold blood. She probably was with Overwatch by then and played a part in his rehabilitation.

“Then I must…” Hanzo said, but she glared at him.

“I don’t understand why you did what you did, though I promised Genji I wouldn’t…”

“Please,” Hanzo said, learning that humility was not something to be ashamed of but a path to redemption, and the dragons yielded to his will once more. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for saving Genji.”

Angela finished with the blood, pressing a cotton soaked in alcohol against his skin and bending his elbow to hold it there.

“I esteem Genji,” she sighed, blushing slightly at her words. “If he has forgiven you, you must be worth it.”

“You care about him,” Hanzo said, realizing why the doctor was so emotional about meeting him. Genji might be more than just a friend to Dr. Ziegler.

“Oh! We’ve known each other for so many years, and, well, yes, of course I do,” she said, babbling adorably.

“Then thank you again for taking care of him all these years, Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo said.

The door opened and startled Angela, who quickly smiled at Genji while he approached them. Hanzo frowned, happy at not being the elephant in the room anymore because those two only had eyes for each other.

“Everything alright?” Genji asked.

“Yes, you are dismissed, Mr. Shimada,” she said, keeping the blood sample in a small refrigerator while Hanzo put on his jacket again, but Dr. Ziegler handed him a folder and fixed her eyes on him. “It will be necessary for you to fill this forms out before tomorrow.”

“Consider it done,” Hanzo said, again, not daring to contradict the doctor.

“Come on, I’ll show you your accommodations,” Genji said. “I already moved your things there.”

It was strange but not as much as Hanzo initially thought, so far, everyone was friendly enough and professional enough, though he was there for Genji and he was sure he wasn’t fooling anyone, not even his little brother. A part of Hanzo was at peace with his actions as though all these angry years wandering around the world had been just a grueling path to where he was heading now.

Hanzo took a peek at Genji’s nape while he followed him up the stairs and saw the plugs he had mentioned before. A shiver ran down his spine, it was unavoidable, a permanent reminder that he deserved no joy; that his past actions will haunt him for the rest of his life. Genji opened the door and invited him in with a flourish of his hand. His brother hadn’t lost his sense of humor, apparently.

“Your new room.”

It wasn’t too big, there was a well-sized bed in a corner of the room, one side against the wall, a closet more than enough for his limited belongings, even a desk and another door that would be the bathroom. He felt somewhat relieved at that, imagining about sharing a locker room and common showers. Hanzo much preferred to keep his privacy.

“No windows, none of us have them, but the ventilation system is working fine since Athena’s last calibrations,” Genji explained.

“This will do more than fine, I have lived worse these past years,” Hanzo said, chuckling and remembering the time he had spent in Numbani, the impossibly hot and humid weather and that poor excuse of a hotel.

“There is one thing, though,” Genji said, his lip twitching into a mischievous smile Hanzo remembered too well from his childhood mischief.

“Genji?” Hanzo said, arching an eyebrow at his brother’s dramatic pause.

“You will have to share the bathroom with the adjacent room,” Genji said, and Hanzo frowned, not quite understanding why that would be a problem, it was inconvenient, yes, but he would manage.

“Shall I meet my almost roommate?”

“You will, in due time, but McCree is away on a mission. He will arrive soon,” Genji said, smiling. “You two will get along just fine.” For some reason, Hanzo shuddered at his brother’s words.

“Is there something I should know beforehand?” Hanzo asked.

“He’s my best friend, so be nice to him,” Genji said. “And a cowboy.”

“A cowboy?” Hanzo chuckled.

“Oh, you just wait, brother.”

 _Brother_. The word was like a dagger to his heart that harmed him and, at the same time, filled him with a familiar joy he had forgotten long ago. When nothing had happened yet when they were just brothers and not rivals.

“I also have a proposition for you,” Genji said, the warming smile coming back to his face. “I meditate every day and I thought maybe you’d like to join me.”

“Like when we were young, and you ruined all my meditation training annoying me?”

“Sure, and to spend time together,” Genji said, handing him a friendly hand for a shake which Hanzo took gladly, feeling the cold metal in his skin, but the familiarity of his brother’s eyes watching right through him.

The dragons were reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new favorite thing to write is bonding time between Genji and Hanzo <3
> 
> A teaser:
> 
> “Nice to meet ya’ too, partner,” McCree said, tipping his hat.  
>  _Very nice to meet ya’, indeed._


	5. Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragons meditate, something happens in London, and someone arrives at Gibraltar.

_Watchpoint: Gibraltar, 2076_

Hanzo took another peek at Genji, opening his left eye just a slit to check on him. He was actually meditating. At the back of the comm tower and its big antenna, there was a path with a nice view at the Mediterranean sea, bathed by a soft shadow in the evenings, and Genji’s favorite spot to sit and relax, and apparently, meditate. An ability Hanzo would have never expected from his brother.

Hanzo had accompanied him a little skeptical because he knew his brother, and when they were younger and their father instructed them in the art of meditation as a way to improve their mental strength, Genji was a nightmare to be with.

He would make noises with his mouth, click his tongue, move his legs, stretch, and change positions until Hanzo couldn’t take it anymore and had to punch him in the shoulder, unable to focus. And now he had been thirty minutes with his eyes closed, his breath perfectly controlled and a blessed expression on his face as though he had achieved Nirvana.

“Enough nonsense, Genji,” Hanzo said, opening his eyes and looking at him. “Who tamed you?” Genji’s lip twitched in a half-smile, amused, and turned his head to look back at Hanzo, relaxing into the wall behind them. When he had asked Hanzo to join him, what he really wanted is to get to know his brother again, to see if Hanzo was still there.

“I have not always been at peace with what I am,” Genji said. “I left Overwatch after we took down the clan,” he explained. When the ninja had his revenge and dismantled the Shimada Empire he had felt empty and lost that’s why he left Overwatch and all his friends. He thought his personal victory would grant him peace and satisfaction but it didn’t, it brought despair and loneliness to his purposeless life.

“So you played a part on that,” Hanzo said with a hint of pride. “I wish I had too.” The archer leaned back on the wall too and his gaze fell on the vast horizon at their feet.

“You left them without an heir and a leader, I’d say that’s playing a part.” Genji knew that he wasn’t the only one drawn into a spiral of blood and violence by their family and clan. His alleged death had been a turning point for both, a new life for him and an escape for Hanzo.

Hanzo shuddered, and a shiver ran through his spine when he pondered what would have happened if he had stayed in the crime scene and had to fight his brother again, but he shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. After his brother’s _death_ his old life was meaningless.

“Why did you leave your friends then?” Hanzo asked curious about why Genji had left Overwatch so suddenly after his victory.

“I had a hard time accepting my mechanical parts, I thought they made me… less human, less me.” Genji remembered the day he had woken up in a hospital bed, the last image on his mind his brother, crying over his body while he bled into his arms.

The shock of finding himself armless, half a body, all tubes and wires was terrifying. The only thing good about that memory was the reassuring smile from Angela, hovered over him with a white light forming a halo in her head. He won’t lie, for a moment he thought she was a real angel.

“They do not,” Hanzo said, waking Genji up from his reverie.

“I wandered around the world and I felt like an outcast in most places, until I crossed paths with my mentor Zenyatta, a member of the Shambali and an omnic,” Genji said, glancing at him, expecting to find a surprised face at the mention of an omnic, but a smug smile spread on Hanzo’s lips instead.

“I cannot imagine you in a monastery living the life of a monk.”

“Me neither, but I did,” Genji shrugged. “It took me a while to understand Zenyatta’s lessons, but I opened my mind and I felt free again, in harmony with my existence.” the ninja glanced at him. “That’s when I decided to go and find you again.”

“I am impressed, I must say.”

Hanzo recalled how his brother behaved in his twenties, so rebellious, escaping his responsibilities and wanting nothing more than to go out with girls and pass out drunk. And, though he seemed more mature, he was still the same, his sense of humor and how he smiled before cracking a joke. Genji always had a gift to make him laugh when he didn’t want to.

“We should train together if you really want to be impressed,” Genji boldly said.

“You think you can do better than me?” Hanzo said, accepting the challenge and arching an eyebrow at his brother’s cockiness.

“I am certain of it,” Genji bragged, chuckling, and lying on the ground to admire the sky while Hanzo laughed at his side.

And they remained silent for a while, smelling the salty breeze of the sea and observing the reflections of a gingerly sun in the water. It was peaceful at the base, Hanzo learned quickly that people respected his personal space, that Winston was good explaining things and reading blueprints while Dr. Ziegler was a great listener and made a mean coffee. He hadn’t met Mrs. Oxton or McCree yet, and though he did not want to admit it, he was looking forward to meeting the reputed cowboy.

“How are the dragons?” Genji asked, resting a leg on the other knee and tapping his foot on the air.

“Unsettled, but more at peace than the last ten years, I would say,” Hanzo sighed. He still had disturbing nightmares, and the voices of the dragons echoed his thoughts way too often, but his brother’s presence was calming.

“They feed on our emotions, amplifying them, I remember mine was relentless at punishing me when I rejected myself,” Genji risked a glance up to Hanzo, glimpsing the agony inside him. “Can’t imagine hosting two.”

“They act as though I am not a good enough vessel for them,” Hanzo said.

“And yet, they bend to our will when we need them.”

“A small price for such power,” Hanzo smirked.

He had always liked power, sometimes blindly, as his past actions proved, but he felt the spirit dragons had chosen them, even if they’d been in the family for generations, not all Shimadas could control them; some had gone mad in the past, some had not been worthy enough and perished attempting to subdue them. But he and Genji assumed control of the spirit dragons at a very early age. They came to them almost without noticing, and before Hanzo knew it, the dragon printed itself in his skin and settled a home in his heart.

“I think they’re gleeful to be reunited again, I sensed it when I saw you back in Hanamura,” Genji said.

“Are you talking about us or the dragons, Genji?”

“Both,” the ninja said, winking at him. They shared a knowing gaze, full of repent, regret, sorrow, and forgiveness. Hanzo knew his brother’s heart was too big and good for his own sake, and he swore to himself to do anything in his hand to earn his trust again.

“Sometimes I still fear I will wake up to a world where you no longer exist,” Hanzo confessed.

“We are here, brother, no one can take that from us.”

 _Wise words_ , Hanzo thought.

 

The training facilities of Watchpoint Gibraltar were impressive, Hanzo missed the dojo and the touch of a tatami under his feet, but the canvas of the training space was equally effective. As he threw punches and kicks in the air he smiled, wanting to take on Genji’s offer of training together.

 _That_ _would be interesting._

Hanzo had been there almost two days, but everything was surprisingly familiar, he had never got used to a place so quickly before. Most of the time he didn’t even bother with such things, he had lost his home and his brother, and this was the closest he would dare to call a permanent residence. Not a home.

Fed up with hotel rooms and rent apartments, having his own bed was a dream. His own space, a place to train, people he could talk to even if his social abilities were a little rusty, and Genji. Hanzo had realized soon his brother might have a crush on the good doctor, though he tried, for some reason, to hide it. Genji had been popular with girls so this shyness was new to Hanzo, but he was not the one to intrude in other people businesses.

He reached for a towel to dry the sweat of his naked chest, the tingling on his left arm a telltale of the impatience of the dragons. Training always calmed them down, but the spirit dragons stirred within him, starving for blood whenever they sensed action but not violence.

His phone beeped, and he reached for it, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense Genji had sent him; the notifications were usually from his brother, with a joke, a stupid message, or useless information about things Hanzo couldn’t care less, but this seemed like a formal call.

_Urgent meeting at Winston’s office for all former agents at Watchpoint._

Hanzo needed a shower, but there was no time. If this was an emergency a towel dry and a new shirt will have to do. He hurried to the main building, the cold air of the evening giving him goosebumps. He was eager to get on a mission, to work again and not only as a bounty hunter or a hired assassin but as a real vigilante doing something good for someone other than himself.

Winston and Dr. Ziegler were already there when he entered the office, with only four agents at Watchpoint there was no need for formalities in the meeting room. Genji arrived right after him.

“What happened?” Genji asked, glancing at Angela and Winston.

“Tekhartha Mondatta has been assassinated in London,” Winston said. Genji’s face turned into a worried grimace, the omnic was a token of peace between humans and robots and a friend of Zenyatta. “I’m expecting Lena’s call, and I thought you should be here too.”

“Do we know who is responsible for this?” Hanzo said.

“The news doesn’t say much, only that the city is in chaos and that the consequences of this are unpredictable. Lena will know more. She was there,” Winston said, a stern expression on his face.

Dr. Ziegler and Genji exchanged an anxious look, but everyone’s attention turned to the screen on the desk when Athena announced Lena’s call. Winston hurried to answer, sitting on the big rubber wheel he used as a chair, so everyone could gather behind him and listen to the video call.

“Winston?” Lena said, the image flickered and blurred out for a moment but the connection stabilized quickly.

“Lena! All former agents are here, what happened?”

“Oh! Winston, he’s dead, I couldn’t do anything to stop her,” Lena said almost in tears, the emotion fluttering her voice. The girl had big golden sad eyes and a strong British accent that made Hanzo pay more attention than usual to understand what she was saying.

Hanzo found himself with a hand over his brother’s shoulder, reassuring, sharing the pain he knew he suffered at the news. Dr. Ziegler was holding Genji’s hand, comforting him too; but the ninja only had eyes for the video call and Lena.

“Everything was going fine, Halo had started his speech, but I sensed movement within his security and got suspicious so I went up the building to patrol the area, just in case,” Lena explained, pausing to breathe. “And then I saw her, hanging from a nearby roof with her sniper rifle ready to shoot.”

“Talon,” Winston growled.

Hanzo had been reviewing the information Overwatch had gathered about Talon and his members. Widowmaker, or Amélie LaCroix, was the widow of a founder member of Overwatch, murdered by her own hands, and turned into a sleeping agent by the criminal organization. A sad story with an even sadder ending, considering she was now working for those who had plotted her husband’s assassination through herself.

“I pursued her and warned Mondatta’s security intruding their communications,” Lena said.

“Lena!” Dr. Ziegler said in a proving tone, concern about Overwatch going into public earlier than expected. They were, after all, an illegal organization too, no matter the good of their actions.

“I know, but I had to, and I didn’t identify myself as an Overwatch agent,” Lena said, exasperated.

“Good call,” Winston said, glaring at Dr. Ziegler for the intrusion.

“But everything was useless, and I failed Winston, I have failed everyone,” she said. “It was me or him and I blinked, he was dead and I was safe, I am so sorry.”

“We cannot afford to lose you, Lena, you did what you had to do to keep fighting,” Winston said.

“Winston,” the struggle in her voice disappeared, replaced by sheer determination. “When I asked her why, when I confronted her, she laughed.”

“That doesn’t sound like Amélie at all,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m miserable, I let her escape and she damaged my chronal accelerator. It is steady now but I can’t recall or blink,” Lena explained.

“We’ll fix that, don’t worry,” Winston assured her.

“Any major injuries?” Dr. Ziegler asked.

“Nothing you can heal, doc,” Lena said, disappointed.

“You’d be surprised,” Genji said, blushing and mumbling a curse in Japanese. Hanzo smiled at his brother’s big mouth.

“Lena,” Winston said. “Is Emily all right?”

“Yes, I’m with her now, she says hi,” a faint of a smile showed up in Lena’s lips.

“Well, I expect a full report tomorrow morning and you at Gibraltar as soon as possible, I need to adjust that chronal accelerator,” Winston said. “Watchpoint out.”

All of them stared at the ended call message on the screen in silence, and Hanzo squeezed Genji’s shoulder before dropping his hand. Winston turned around in the tire to look at them, glancing briefly at Angela and Genji, still holding hands.

“I should call my mentor and inform him, if that’s okay with you, Winston,” Genji said.

“Yes, Zenyatta’s worth Overwatch trust.”

“I will, I cannot foresee the consequences of this and I am worried,” Genji said.

“Overwatch was shut down for a reason,” Angela said, releasing Genji’s hand. “Maybe it’s best if it stay that way.”

It surprised Hanzo the doctor’s reaction, but Genji only let out a resigned gasp already waiting for Winston’s answer. The ninja was familiar with Dr. Ziegler’s thought about Overwatch military approach and how saving lives was more important than wars, but this was not the place to discuss that again.

“How can you say that? Overwatch was shut down for all the wrong reasons,” Winston said.

“And I am here, but we should not repeat the same mistakes from the past,” Angela said.

“We won’t,” Genji said.

 

 

The warm water poured abundantly over his shoulders and Hanzo relaxed at the late evening shower. He stood there, washing the sweat from his previous work out and the bad feeling of the debriefing. Winston decided they should not make any move until Lena was back and we all discussed the full report, but Dr. Ziegler and Genji sat in front of the television watching the news discussing the situation in London.

His skin burned red at the hot stream and the steam filled the small bathroom. He turned the water off and stepped outside, facing the big mirror on top of the sink. Two small bathroom cabinets framed the mirror. He had already kept his things there, including the razor he bought following Tony’s recommendations; and he suddenly felt curious at the roommate he hadn’t met yet. The cowboy.

Hanzo wasn’t nosy and didn’t like meddling with other people’s things; he just wanted to take a look, a peek, something innocent. He tied a towel around his waist, his torso and back still dripping water beads that ran down his heated skin, and then he casually opened the cabinet.

A hint of disappointment struck him when he saw it was almost empty. A toothbrush and toothpaste -what a surprise- on the top shelf there were four different deodorants, all opened and used, a bottle of painkillers and another with aspirins, a glass, and behind it, a forgotten shaving set that had seen better days.

The cabinet was just as disappointing as he had anticipated, and Hanzo closed it, opening his own to continue with his routine. He was tired and couldn’t wait to relax in bed and fall asleep. It still amazed him how cool he looked with the undercut, he should have done that years ago, Hanzo thought, drying the long locks with a towel and pushing the length of his hair on one side.

It would have improved his sex life for sure. A very long time had passed since he had liked someone enough to sleep with him, usually one night stands, something futile and without complications. Not that the situation would change anytime soon.

The second bathroom door suddenly opened, and he turned his head to look at the man glancing at him, startled by his presence there as much as him. And, judging by his attire, he was the famous cowboy. The first thing Hanzo noticed was his left hand. It was mechanical, not exactly like his brother’s but the dark grey of the metal stood out.

A deep brown Stetson hat, his checkered blue and white flannel, sleeves rolled to the elbow, the jeans, cowboy boots visibly worn-out and the -worst or best, Hanzo couldn’t decide- part, was the BAMF buckle too huge to be practical, but definitely a statement.

“Howdy, the name’s McCree,” he said, extending a hand, and Hanzo realized he had been staring at the man. He took his hand and felt the rough callous skin of McCree brushing his softened flesh by the hot shower. He noticed his loosened hair dripping on his right shoulder and the cool air coming in through the opened door.

“Shimada Hanzo,” he said, too aware of his nakedness and the inappropriate introduction. He cleared his throat nervously, trying to fill the silence; and a smug smile spread on the cowboy’s lips who did not take his eyes from him.

“I guess we’re roommates now,” McCree said, rubbing the back of his neck. He had just arrived at the base, wanting nothing more than a shower and a warm bed. Instead, there was the man he had plotted to treat like trash because he had tried to kill his best friend, the man who, according to him, did not deserve a second chance, the man with a perfectly toned chest and abs and a tattooed arm with a Japanese dragon that disappeared right where his hand rested, holding the towel at his waist.

“I believe my brother wants us to get along,” Hanzo said, picking up his discarded clothes, praying for his towel not to fall and cursing himself for creating more conversation instead of running away from there.

“Ya’ bet. I owe him a rap on the head. Been wantin’ to meet ya’, though,” McCree said, his accent complementing his voice too well for Hanzo’s sake.

Hanzo realized McCree looked tired, the dark shadows under his eyes and his beaten up shoulders, probably because of the long flight here. And yet his eyes glittered with kindness and his smile was polite. If Genji trusted him so did he.

“I already finished, the bathroom is all yours,” Hanzo said. “Maybe we can come up with a schedule or something to prevent things like this in the future.”

“We don't need that, I got the feelin’ I’ma gonna enjoy bumping into ya’, partner,” McCree said, and Hanzo snorted, turning around and opening the door to his own room.

McCree’s eyes roamed shamelessly down his broad shoulders, following the line of his spine and the still wet curves of his muscles until the dimples of his back, and he cursed himself, and Genji, and the damned Shimada genes because if that man was sexy upfront he was even sexier from behind.

“Pleasure to meet you, McCree,” Hanzo said, glancing back, and he swore he had seen the cowboy checking him out, but he decided he was way too rusty and needy to read the signs well.

“Nice to meet ya’ too, partner,” McCree said, tipping his hat.

 _Very_ _nice to meet ya’_ _, indeed_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the banter didn't get too annoying! Sometimes I lose myself in dialogues <3
> 
> The next chapter's title is "High Noon".


	6. High Noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is a handyman.

_Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar, 2076_

McCree yawned loudly, stretching out on his bed like a lazy cat with too much space at his reach. He loved waking up without an alarm and the past few days he’d been doing exactly that with no imminent missions ahead. Lena came back two days ago, gloomy and sad because she had to stay away from her girlfriend, but by now she was the cheerful -annoying- restless ass everybody loved.

His stomach growled, the only reason that would get him out of bed. He checked the bathroom light was off and got in to relieve himself. Hanzo was an early bird, it surprised McCree how calculated were his movements. The little things were like a ritual to him, making breakfast, maintaining his bow, training, he was meticulous and efficient; he got the job done unhurriedly.

McCree washed his hands and teeth and splashed water on his face. He wondered if Hanzo was as deadly on the battlefield as Genji had told him. The archer barely spoke, but he was polite and listened to his banter. He even caught a brief glimpse of a chuckle from Hanzo the other day and it surprised him. And then McCree realized he was staring at himself in the mirror with his mind lost in Hanzo. Again.

When he got to the mess hall Genji was on one of the couches distracted with a data pad, the smell of not so fresh coffee lingered in the room and he fixed himself a quick sandwich and a mug before joining the ninja. McCree dropped on the couch, bouncing once and startling Genji.

“Mornin’,” he said, with a mouth full of food.

“I thought we wouldn’t see you until noon,” Genji teased.

“Just needed a few days to myself,” McCree said.

Genji turned off the screen and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, turning around to look at him while McCree wolfed down his sandwich.

“What?” he said, suspecting an important question was in the air and hoping it didn’t involve Genji’s brother.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Genji said, taking a peek around and making sure they were alone.

“I ain’t gonna kill your brother, he’s too pretty, and I don't kill pretty,” McCree said, cursing his big mouth.

“Pretty? So you like my brother,” Genji said and chuckled. It was hard to forbid the cowboy from flirting with the stones.

“I only said he ain’t worth killin’,” McCree rolled his eyes. “What do ya’ want? I don't have all day,” McCree said, swallowing the last piece of his food.

“hm," Genji lowered his voice. “I want to ask Dr. Ziegler on a date but I don’t know how to approach the subject.”

“First, stop calling her Dr. Ziegler and start callin’ her Angela,” McCree pointed out, arching an eyebrow at him. Genji shushed him, nervous.

“I call her Angela all the time,” he defended himself, lying poorly. “Help me out, what should I do?”

“Just ask the lady,” McCree said, chuckling while Genji covered his face in desperation regretting the moment he had opened his mouth. McCree wouldn’t miss a chance to mess with the ninja and kneeled in front of Genji, with a hand in his heart and another at the sky. “Darlin’, would you do me the honor of having  dinner with me tonight?” he teased, enjoying Genji’s embarrassment a little too much.

McCree had seen Angela and Genji flirting since their Blackwatch days and failing miserably at reading the signs. He wasn’t the one to beat around the bush if he liked someone he went for it, easy and without complications.

“Are you asking my brother out, McCree?” Hanzo said behind him and McCree didn’t like Genji’s smug smile when he felt the red come up his cheeks. So he stylishly cleared his throat and sat again, looking at Hanzo’s amused smile.

“Ya’ jealous or what?” McCree winced, masking his embarrassment with a wolfish grin.

Hanzo repressed a chuckle as best as he could and instead relished in the soft pink that burned the cowboy’s cheeks. _Adorable_. He sat on the other couch with his coffee and shook his head. It was nice not be alone all the time, sharing meals with other teammates and these stupid moments, because the cowboy was a clown sometimes and he only needed a few days to find out. McCree seemed to be a shameless flirt too. Suited him well and didn’t bother Hanzo.

“Come on! I need real help here,” Genji complained.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, sipping his coffee.

“I want to ask Dr. Ziegler out. I think, maybe it is just a bad idea,” Genji said, muffling his grunt with a nearby cushion.

“You might want to refer to her as Angela,” Hanzo pointed out. A triumphant laugh left McCree’s mouth and Genji grunted again. Hanzo ignored them and kept talking. “If you really like her you should tell her, there is no point in suffering in uncertainty.”

“What he said,” McCree agreed.

“Fine, and where do I take her?”

“First make sure she says yes,” McCree laughed and Hanzo snorted. Teasing Genji was fun, he was usually at the other end of the teasing with his little brother.

“You two are impossible,” Genji complained, standing ready to leave the two unhelpful men to laugh their asses off by themselves.

“Guten tag!” Angela said from the kitchen counter, making a new pot of fresh coffee while Lena followed her carrying an endless banter.

“Good morning, Dr. Ziegler!” Genji said enthusiastically, and McCree burst into laughter, and Hanzo followed him unable to help himself. Little Genji with a crush.

Seeing his brother laugh like that after so many years brought Genji memories, pleasant ones, and they eased his anger but not the red that came up to his neck and face while he ran away from there as fast as he could, sulking after being mocked. He needed to meditate, gather strength and ask her out sooner than later. And never ask McCree for romantic advice ever again.

McCree stopped laughing when he saw Hanzo’s flustered face, his laugh was the most melodic tune he had heard, clear and strong but above all, genuine. He knew this was a gift not everybody had seen. Then Hanzo slowly calmed down and his laugh turned into a soft chuckle, sipping again his coffee. The moment vanished too quickly for McCree’s liking and when he recovered the stern expression that was so characteristic of him, the cowboy sighed.

“McCree,” Winston said from the second floor through the hole in his office. An accident, useful for this floor to floor conversations. “I need you to fix the communication tower again, the antenna thing you fixed the other time.”

“Did the crew screw up again?” McCree asked, knowing the answer.

“They were performing the routine maintenance when…”

“They screw up again,” McCree said and mumbled a curse. “I’m on it!”

“Thank you, McCree, and please, wear the harness this time,” Winston instructed, disappearing again inside his office. The scientist excelled at his job, planning and building devices but this task required less finesse and more improvisation.

McCree stood, glancing at Hanzo who comfortably read his data pad while enjoying a coffee, apparently not paying attention. Hanzo looked at him, feeling the eyes of the cowboy fixed on his crown.

“Good luck with that,” Hanzo said, oblivious to McCree’s intentions.

“Oh, you’re comin’ with me, sweetheart,” he said, an shit-eating grin on his face. “Need a hand so I don't fall.” Hanzo arched an eyebrow at the pet name but McCree ignored the silent reproval and winked at him. “See ya’ outside in five, gotta grab my hat,” he said.

 

The sun was relentless and five minutes outside waiting while McCree adjusted the harness to the metal ladder made Hanzo break a sweat and they hadn’t even started yet. The cowboy had been smart getting his hat to protect himself from the sun, the weather in Gibraltar probably similar than the one at his home country.

McCree climbed first and Hanzo followed, carrying the toolbox, and noticing that even if he had forced him to wear the harness, McCree had ignored Winston’s orders outrageously.

“I hope you ain’t scared of heights,” the cowboy said, beginning to climb.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a harness too?” Hanzo inquired, climbing the ladder behind him.

“Nah, ya’ got me, right?” Hanzo snorted as a reply and they kept slowly going up. He could feel the warmth of the heated metal under the working gloves and an itching sensation at the back of his neck and shaved nape. He will get a sunburn no doubt.

“The problem is not the antenna, the problem here is that they keep messing with my repair,” McCree said. “Screwdriver, the big one with the black handle.”

Hanzo anchored the toolbox in the ladder with a carabiner and rummaged for the tool, tapping McCree’s shin with it so he knew when to grab it. They didn’t go all the way up, but enough for a fatal fall.

“Much obliged,” McCree said, opening the cable box, keeping the tool and the screws in his tool belt.

Hanzo was sweating, feeling the sun desperately close, burning his skin. His grey shirt was already a mess full of sweat stains as though Hanzo had gone through the most intense workout. Any small breeze was like a blessing, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he watched McCree work. The mechanical arm had full functionality for what he could see and the man was efficient and organized. A quality he did not expect from him at work since McCree was a walking mess most of the time.

“Where did you learn how to fix things? It is not a common skill for a bounty hunter,” Hanzo asked.

“Born and raised in Santa Fe, New Mexico, darlin’,” McCree said. “My father was a mechanic and a handyman, he taught me everythin’ I know.”

“I have never visited New Mexico,” Hanzo said, curious about the mysterious cowboy that stared at him too often and sought for his company. He had to admit that he enjoyed his company a little too much, the endless banter, the accent, the way he dragged the words and finished his sentences with a wry tone.

“There's nothin’ much to see. I left the farm when I was fifteen, joined a gang and been rollin’ since then,” McCree casually said. Hanzo had learned from experience you should not ask a man about his past unless you want to get him grumpy and annoyed for the rest of the day; so, instead of prying, he changed the subject.

“Do you ride?”

“Not lately,” McCree chuckled. “But I miss it, I’d give anythin’ if I could ride into the sunset every night. Hand me the stripping pliers.”

The image of the cowboy riding a horse brought a half-smile to his face. Hanzo did as requested, scratching the back of his neck while a drop of sweat fell from the side of his forehead, the first of many more. The heat was suffocating and he could feel the back of his neck red and itchy.

“I need ya’ up here with me,” McCree said, glancing down and making room for him on the ladder. Hanzo unhooked the toolbox and climbed next to him. Space was tight, their legs pressed together and their arms brushing while he secured the box again.

“What do you need?” Hanzo said, realizing he was slightly out of breath.

“Catch me if I slip,” McCree said, a smirk on his lips while he introduced his left arm inside the cable box and struggled to find something there. He could do this on his own as he had the last five times, but what about the pretty helper he had unexpectedly found.

Hanzo looked at him, a few inches from his face. McCree’s brown eyes that looked black most of the time, glittering in the bright sunlight, his hair disheveled under the hat and a messy stubble too long to be that but too short to be a beard either. The harness kept Hanzo safe and both his arms free in case he needed to help McCree.

“You barely know me and you trust me with your life, cowboy?” Hanzo teased. “I am a trained assassin.” Hanzo suspected McCree didn’t really need him, but he enjoyed his company, though he was also enjoying his coffee an hour ago.

“I don't need much time with people,” he bragged. “Besides, ya’ wouldn’t let me fall, would ya’ honey?”

“If you keep calling me those things I might reconsider my position of power,” Hanzo said, making him chuckle.

“Gotcha,” McCree said. “Hand me the American tape.” McCree picked it up and leaned into the cable box again. He realized Hanzo was sweating and probably burning the back of his head in this damn sun. “Ya’ want my hat?”

“I am alright, thank you,” Hanzo lied, glancing back at the sea and waiting for McCree to finish, though he could blame the blush of his cheeks on the sun and not the selfless offer. Hanzo was not used at people caring for him in such trivial things. He’d been a lone wolf for too long.

“We’re almost done, don't ya’ worry,” McCree said. “The maintenance personnel keeps removing the tape and the heat messes with the plastic of the cables and melts them.”

“Simple solution,” Hanzo said.

McCree took a pocket knife out from his tool belt and finished, handing Hanzo again the tape and smiling satisfied at the green light that indicated that everything was fixed. He closed the lid quickly and turned around to look at Hanzo. The poor thing was a sweaty mess.

 _Pretty sweati_ _ng_ _mess._

“All patched up,” McCree said. “Let’s get ya’ inside before ya’ get a sunstroke.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and picked up the toolbox, climbing down the ladder. He couldn’t wait to hit the ground and step out of the sun. They took their time, McCree checking up on him so he wouldn’t step on his hands. The moment they were finally down Hanzo sighed in relief, walking with McCree to the entrance, where Winston was waiting for them.

“Everything’s working now,” Winston said. “Thank you, McCree.”

“You’re welcome,” the cowboy said, tipping his hat.

“I was wondering if you’d have time now to review the intel we got from your, eh, informant, and…”

Winston kept talking but McCree wasn’t paying attention. Hanzo had taken off the working gloves, keeping them in the toolbox and was taking off the grey shirt soaked in sweat. The time stopped when he pulled the shirt up with both hands, revealing the fine-looking torso he had admired the other day, his muscles twitching, deliciously covered by a veil of sweat; the curve of his muscles showed up even more in the daylight and he had to repress a whistle while he lowered the brim of his hat and tilted his head in appreciation. Hanzo was unaware, but he was a fucking sight to see.

Hanzo finished taking off the shirt, a rebellious bang framing one side of his face. He hid it at the back of his ear gracefully with his fingers, and kept the shirt on a bundle, using it to dry the remaining sweat on his skin. A beautiful white skin, with that tattoo shaped into a dragon that McCree suddenly wanted to inspect further in detail.

Hanzo wasn’t beefy, more like gloriously well-developed by years of dogged training. McCree’s gaze lingered for too long at the waistband of his sweatpants, not a trace of hair or fuzz in his body, and a lascivious smile crept on his face without noticing.

He hadn’t been into someone for a very long time and damn if he wasn’t attracted to the archer. Even if it would be a really bad idea to mix work and pleasure, or to even try, he wouldn’t stand a chance and he might get an arrow in the head.

But his mind was screaming: just a night to do bad and good things to that man as though that would satisfy his lust. A single night to live from it for the rest of his life.

 _Damn,_ he thought, licking his now dry and thirsty lips.

“McCree?” Winston frowned. “Did you listen to what I’ve said?”

“Yeah, kind of, maybe, your office?” McCree said, clearing his throat and glancing briefly at Winston while he grunted, not understanding exactly what had happened but entering the building. He left Hanzo behind tapping the brim of his hat politely and, of course, taking a marvelous last glance at the spectacle that was Hanzo Shimada sweaty under the sun, a spectacle making his own jeans uncomfortable to wear.

The office offered a cool and fresh atmosphere, a piece of heaven compared to the heat outside, though he already missed the landscape.

“Do I have your attention now?” Winston said, sitting on the wheel and peeling a banana.

“Shoot,” McCree said, leaning on the desk.

“I don’t trust her,” Winston said, wiping off McCree’s grin.

“But I do, it’s a good deal of information and she risked her life to give it to us,” the cowboy said. Olivia had feed Overwatch information since the recall and though McCree didn’t like her close relationship with Talon and Los Muertos he knew better than to suspect from her.

“Sombra also stole _my_ design for her translocator,” Winston arched an eyebrow, chewing the banana and still resentful. He should’ve gone over that a long time ago, but the scientist was careful with his work, aware of what would happen if his technology fell into the wrong hands.

“Borrowed,” McCree said, and coughed at the glare from Winston and the low growl coming from his throat. He had seen Winston angry, and he did not want him angry right now, but the scientist relaxed and sighed, discarding the peel in the trash can.

“Uh, where were we? Yes, the intel. Are you sure Talon is interested in Doomfist?”

“That’s what she said,” McCree clicked his tongue.

“But he is in a maximum security prison, there is no way Talon has the resources to break him free,” Winston said.

“I’m just the messenger, Winston, but if ya’ want my opinion, I reckon Doomfist is nothin’ without his gauntlet, just like I'm nothin’ without Peacekeeper,” McCree said.

"You’re right,” Winston stared at the desk, thoughtful. “I’ll inform the rest of the team in the next debriefing.”

“What about the other thing, the Deadlock Gang’s warehouse,” McCree asked. “We should take a look or pay them a surprise visit.” The organization had a bounty on his head and he was still resentful. He had thwarted their plans in the past but wouldn’t rest until the last of them was behind bars or dead.

“I’m still looking into it. I won’t send a team if I am not one hundred percent sure,” Winston said. “We do not pursue personal grudges in Overwatch.” McCree rolled his eyes.

“Am I dismissed?” McCree said, an old Blackwatch habit.

“Yes, that’ll be all.” The cowboy was ready to leave, turning on his heels when Winston spoke again. “Hey, McCree,” Winston said, pushing his glasses back into the bridge of his nose. “You’re a lot more than your weapon.”

A half-smile brightened up his face at the praise, he had almost forgotten he was no longer a bounty hunter or an outlaw with a bounty on his head, that Overwatch was back, and that meant he was back. Even if the organization was illegal now, he had missed it badly.

“Thank you kindly,” he said, tipping his hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:
> 
> “That sake’s not half bad, but I prefer a little bite to my liquor,” McCree said, letting his flask next to the bottle of sake.  
> “How predictable! Such an unsophisticated taste,” Hanzo said.
> 
> (Yes, I do love sneaking in game voicelines, sorry not sorry!)


	7. Sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji finds the courage to do as he must and Hanzo and McCree share a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW (just saying).

_Watchpoint : Gibraltar, 2076_

Genji’s heart thumped as though it wanted to get out of his chest when he spotted Angela on the couch, nursing a tea and hiding behind a pile of files. Since Lena came back it became harder to steal a moment with the doctor, but the girl was missing, Winston was already in his room and she was there, alone. Now or never.

Genji hesitated, taking a doubtful step forward. Why was so difficult to ask her? It was just dinner, and he used to have a gift with girls, they fell for his silver tongue, always so self-assured; but that was before, when he had a human body, a position of power in the family empire and nothing to lose.

An exasperated sigh left his lungs at his own thoughts. Not that. It was difficult because he cared about her, because she has been there with him since he woke up at the Overwatch medical facilities, because she was a friend; a good friend that has always been there for him.

He remembered when they finally took down the Shimada clan and he left Overwatch. Angela had been sad at the news, not understanding his reasons but respecting his decision. Genji had wanted to stay with her but he needed to be at peace with himself, his past, and his present.

Angela lifted her chin and looked at him, smiling. There was no escape now. Genji rubbed the back of his nape, scratching the plugs where they connected with his own skin. Bad habit, but he was too nervous to notice. He sat next to her, maybe a little closer than usual, his knee brushing her leg.

“Good night, Angela,” Genji said. She looked prettier than usual, Genji thought, the black turtleneck matching the burgundy skirt and her white lab coat rolled to the elbows. So simple and so beautiful, making her blue eyes stand out even in the dim light of the room.

“Don’t scratch the plugs or you’ll get a rash,” Dr. Ziegler said. “Let me see.” She rested the mug on the coffee table and turned Genji’s head around. Cold fingers traced the outline of the socket and it made him shiver.

“I am fine, really,” Genji said, blushing. “I… wanted to speak with you,” he babbled. Angela dug her fingers into the back of his hair, still inspecting his nape, slowly killing Genji’s resolve. He turned around to look at her and found her loving eyes and the soft pink of her cheeks.

“Everything looks fine,” she said, not flinching away.

Genji froze, lost in her gaze and the closeness. Someone at the back of his head was telling him to close the distance and kiss her, no questions ahead, but something was also holding him back. Fear.

“What is it?” she said, breaking the silence.

“Angela, would you like to…” Genji burst out the words too fast and stumbled over them, cursing the heat on his face and the clammy hands.

“I like when you call me by my name,” she whispered, smiling tenderly and taking his sweaty hand into hers, not minding the awkwardness, and making him blush deeper.

A triumphant smile showed up on his face and Genji forgot his own name, the fear, and the doubts, he leaned forward, gently, to see if she pulled back. She didn’t. Angela gasped and closed her eyes. So pretty, so willingly waiting for him to close the distance between their lips and their hearts. Genji brushed her lips with his own while her name escaped his lips one more time and they finally kissed. Unrivaled joy filled his heart at how long he had wanted to have her at his reach like in his most secret dreams. Just for him.

His hand cupped her face while her kissable lips yielded to his will and she whined, pressing her mouth into his and deepening a kiss that neither of them wanted to come to an end. Genji tasted the sweetness of the tea on her tongue, her shyness when he pushed the tip into her mouth, and the same shyness fading away, replaced with want when she kissed him back.

And Genji smiled, trapping her lower lip and sucking at it, the moan that left her mouth was one he would not forget, one he would pursue relentlessly at any opportunity.

 

There was a peace around the base that had Hanzo puzzled at times. He was always on alert, hyper-aware of the space, the exits, the location of the doors and here in his room he felt safe. The archer kept his bow in the closet and got ready to enjoy a book and a calmed evening with the last bottle of sake from his personal stack. But before he could sit on the bed, someone knocked at his door and Hanzo put on a comfortable shirt before finding a grinning cowboy at the other side, with a forefinger on his lips.

“Wanna see somethin’?” McCree whispered, leaning closer. Hanzo smelled the tobacco in his clothes and the sweat of the day at the proximity of the other man. McCree was tall, he realized the cowboy had to lean down to talk to him, and the closeness only made it more obvious.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, frowning while the cowboy grasped his elbow and guided him to the railing, pointing at the lower floor. Hanzo leaned forward and saw in no time what McCree meant by _something_. “Oh,” he gasped, letting a soft chuckle escape his lips. Genji and Dr. Ziegler lay on one of the couches, clearly enjoying their evening while his little brother kissed the doctor. It was good to see him happy and able to enjoy life.

“He’s inviting her to dinner of his tongue for sure,” McCree said. “I’m proud of the kid, finally spooning her.” The cowboy had to fetch for Hanzo to show him the scenery he had found when going out for a quick smoke. He had faith in Genji, but he did not expect him to jump on her like that.

In fact, the sight was getting a little uncomfortable, Genji’s hand teasing dangerously high at her leg and sneaking under the skirt while the doctor dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for an intense kiss as though they needed nothing but each other.

“Maybe we should give them some privacy,” Hanzo said, resting a hand on McCree’s shoulder.

“Ah, Shimada, ya’ are no fun,” the cowboy complained. “C’mere, I’ll show you my little secret.”

Hanzo remembered his sake, signaling the cowboy to wait for him and reaching for it and two _sakazuki_ inside his room. Then he followed the hall that he thought led nowhere while the jack of all trades cowboy opened a door. The cold air washed his face and made him shiver, and McCree snuggled into his red serape, waiting at the doorstep.

“After you,” McCree said, admiring Hanzo’s backside that stood out even inside the baggy sweatpants. _It never fails_ , he thought, smiling to himself when the archer fell for it.

Hanzo stepped outside, it was a small space, up high and with no safety or railing. There were boxes piled up in a corner, and he copied the cowboy when he sat reclined on one of them and pulled a flask out of his pocket.

“Winston doesn't like me getting in here, but it is my favorite place for a quiet time,” McCree said. He watched Hanzo serving two weird looking little plates with a clear liquid and leaving a bottle with even weirder symbols between them. Sharing a drink with a not-so-stranger anymore seemed like a great plan.

“I am honored,” Hanzo said, offering one of the _sakazuki_ to McCree. “Sake.”

“Thank you,” McCree said, enhancing the words in a way that made Hanzo twitch his lip up into a half-smile. Such a strange gift, stealing smiles from someone like him.

McCree sipped the mixture and the initial sweetness left an acid aftertaste, but it went down smoothly, a thick texture and somewhat spicy too. It was not his kind of drink at all, but Hanzo’s satisfied noises while drinking, on the other hand, were right his cup of tea.

“That sake’s not half bad, but I prefer a little bite to my liquor,” McCree said, leaving his flask next to the bottle of sake.

“How predictable! Such an unsophisticated taste,” Hanzo said.

“Hey, no need to be mean! I’m a man of high standards,” McCree joked, finishing the drink in one gulp and chuckling at the roll of eyes from the archer. “Do you mind?” The cowboy mumbled with a smoke in his mouth and the lighter ready. Hanzo nodded, giving him permission.

Even if the cowboy was a big mouth and carried an endless banter most of the time, Hanzo learned today he could also share a peaceful silence and a drink. There was no need to fill the night with nothing more than the breeze, their breaths, and the smoke of his cigarette.

Hanzo served another sake for him and the cowboy lighted his second cigarette, offering one to him from the pack with a wink, as though this man could read his needs without words. The archer smiled, reaching with long fingers for the smoke in McCree’s mouth.

His heart skipped a beat, he felt the filter stick to his lips for a brief moment when Hanzo took the smoke. McCree blessed the darkness for concealing the effect that man had on him with such a simple gesture, and he stared at him while the smoke filled his lungs, and then left his mouth in a soft cloud that dispersed into the night.

He wanted to light another one, to calm his nerves and his racing heart, but sharing the smoke that had been in his lips turned him on badly, and he prayed for Hanzo not to notice his trembling hand when he gave it back, or the soft moan he had to repress when he put it back into his mouth but tasted nothing more than the damn tobacco.

 _What the hell are you_ _doin_ _’, cowboy?_ McCree cursed inwardly.

“Genji deserves all the happiness he can get,” Hanzo said.

“On that, we can agree,” McCree said while the smoke escaped his mouth at every word. “He’s my best friend an’ I can count them with my good hand.”

“I am surprised he was shy about courting her,” Hanzo said, sipping his drink and savoring the delicious sake. He would have to replace the bottle as soon as he could.

“An’ why is that?” McCree had known Genji for a while and he wasn’t shy with girls but he showed no interest besides Angela, and even with that, it took him a long time to accept his feelings.

“He used to have a special charm for the girls,” Hanzo said and chuckled, glancing at the cowboy flask in hand. The man really didn’t like his sake.

“Aha! Genji stole the good ones from you or what?” McCree teased.

“Not at all,” Hanzo said, smirking. “I was very popular among the boys, but Genji jumped from one girl to another, he was quite the playboy I must admit.”

“Interesting,” McCree said, arching an eyebrow at him and Hanzo blushed, sipping the sake to disguise his discomfort. “Yer the shy one.”

“Nonsense,” Hanzo said, repressing a smile.

“You speak fondly of your brother, Shimada,” McCree said.

“I am fond of him,” Hanzo said. “Despite my actions.” His past will pursue him for the rest of his days. Hanzo knew, but acknowledging it didn’t make it hurt any less.

McCree sensed the gloomy atmosphere he had provoked and felt for Hanzo. He recognized a man haunted by his past and full of shame and repent when he saw it because he saw the same thing on himself in the mirror. There was no excuse or no valid reason to do what Hanzo had done, it was hardly something you could call a mistake in McCree’s book, but there was something that didn’t let him _hate_ this man.

“I can imagine why you were so popular, sweetheart, with that long black hair you had,” McCree said in the flirty tone that had brought him so many troubles and good things in the past. “I have to admit you look gorgeous without the goatee too.”

Hanzo forgot the dark place he was into at the cowboy’s words, openly flirting with him. So inappropriate and so charming he couldn’t help but smile. Though when the words sank into his brain he frowned. “How do you know how I looked like in my youth?

“Oh shit,” the cowboy cursed and clicked his tongue. _My big mouth._

“McCree?” Hanzo arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

“When Genji told me bout ya’ I asked a few favors to find out who you really were,” the cowboy confessed in a heartbeat. “An’ there was a photo of ya’.”

“I would have done the same,” Hanzo said, shaking his head. “Seems unfair that you know more about me than I know about you, cowboy.”

“Fair enough,” McCree said turning around to look at him. “Shoot.”

“How did you end up in Overwatch?” Hanzo asked, but he quickly realized he might be overstepping McCree’s privacy. “You do not have to answer if…” McCree waved his hand and smiled at him.

“When I was fifteen I joined the Deadlock Gang, left my home and my pops,” he smiled wider at Hanzo’s surprised face. “I ain’t proud of it, but there’s nothin’ I can do ‘bout it now.”

“I will not be the one to judge you,” Hanzo said.

“We operated in the southwest and, eventually, got busted by Overwatch,” he chuckled. “Gabriel Reyes gave me two choices: rot in a brig or join Blackwatch, and I don't like being locked up.”

“Smart choice for such a young man,” Hanzo said. He thought McCree was a bounty hunter gone right, he did not expect a dark past from such gentle whiskey-colored eyes. He had expected a farm boy with an instinct for righteousness who wanted to be a vigilante, not a smuggler.

“I wanted to do something good with my life, ya’ know?” McCree explained.

“I can relate, cowboy,” Hanzo said, serving the last of his sake with a sad sigh.

“And I met your bud there, one of the best things that have happened to my sorry ass,” the cowboy said. Genji had been a true friend those years, still was.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother,” Hanzo said. He felt the strange need of thanking anyone that had been a part of Genji’s life while he mourned him.

“Genji took care of me too, such a big heart he has,” McCree said. “I would ask how did ya’ end up here but I already know so, how are you doin’?” By experience the cowboy knew adapting to a new place full of new people had been difficult for him, and he failed to imagine how hard might be for Hanzo.

“The concerns of my life seem so distant from here, as though I just woke up from a ten years long nightmare,” Hanzo said.

“People like us get to wake up from that?” McCree said, handing him the smoke. Hanzo took it gladly, chuckling at the cowboy’s joke.

“I hope so,” he said, taking a long drag that burned his lungs and throat. And they drifted again into a comfortable silence, enjoying the company of a fellow soul.

“Should we tease Genji in the mornin’?” McCree asked with a mischievous smile on his face.

“We definitely should,” Hanzo chuckled. “Call me Hanzo, please.” Suddenly, he wanted to hear his name on McCree’s lips. How would it sound? How would he feel listening to it?

“I’d rather call you sweetheart,” the cowboy teased, stealing another throaty laugh from the archer.

 

McCree dropped exhausted on his bed. Exhausted but strangely happy at the nice evening he had. He and Hanzo had talked until there were no more sake, no more cigarettes, and no more bourbon on his flask, and yet they had stayed a little longer. When they went back inside, Genji and Angela were gone and he said his goodnight to the archer with a stupid grin on his face and a tip on an imaginary hat.

Hanzo’s cheeks were flushed red by the alcohol and his dark eyes watery by the smoke. Hanzo Shimada was a feast for the eyes late at night too. The image of the archer the other morning under the sun startled his mind. Again. He remembered the naughty piece of hair sticking to his forehead, that pointy nose, and stern face. And the gorgeous muscled torso, tempting him like a cold beer would tempt a thirsty man, and god if he wasn’t a thirsty cowboy right now. McCree groaned, writhing in the sheets and blaming the swell in his briefs.

McCree lay on his back and his right hand teased the waistband of his underwear, doubtful. He could rub one off, it had been a while, he was human after all; and with that track of thought McCree freed the straining erection from his boxers and gripped his hand around it repressing a moan. There was nothing wrong with being aroused by such a fine man, or so McCree thought while his hand stroked his cock all the way up, clear beads smoothing the task as they dripped down his length.

His body betrayed him, that was all; and he was so hard, just recalling his body, the curve of his back, the smile on the corner of his eyes. How would Hanzo Shimada look flustered and horny into his lap?

“I can’t think of Hanzo Shimada,” McCree mumbled while his hand pumped fast his hard cock and a satisfied gasp left his lungs. He removed the sheets with the other hand. It was hot in there, too hot; and he was all in now.

McCree was not careful jerking himself off, his mind wandered to random bodies, past lovers, trying to trick his imagination, but a dragon appeared clearly on his mind, printed in an arm, a muscled bicep, up to a broad shoulder and a tasty nipple, it had to be tasty. He would give his arm -again- for a bite right now.

His hand moved faster, his grip tight and mindful as he fucked into his hand needily, unable to control his hips, the eagerness and lasciviousness of indulging into someone who turned him on so badly.

 _I won’t think of Hanzo Shimada, not at all_ , he lied to himself right before the man in his mind smiled at him; when McCree imagined his lips closing around the perked nipple, latching at it greedily. He spilled himself into his hand and chest, his orgasm leaving a veil of sweat, a sped up breath and trembling limbs. He came earlier than expected, earlier than he would’ve wanted now that he had surrendered to his guilty pleasure. And he came with a name he did not want on his lips. Or a name he wanted, he didn’t know anymore.

“Hanzo…” McCree murmured. “Damn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself... <3  
> The next chapter is about Hanzo and Genji and I loved it to bits.


	8. Aikido

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious vigilante appears and the Shimadas train together.

_Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar, 2076_

Winston’s office felt crowded and small while the six former agents in Gibraltar accommodated themselves around the room to start the debriefing. Hanzo leaned back on a desk and McCree moved next to him, still half asleep but luckily with a coffee to survive the meeting. Sleepy as he was, he caught Genji’s hand brushing so slightly Angela’s and a shared silent giggle that almost made him roll his eyes.

“Why so early in the morning?” McCree complained to Winston, sipping his coffee, but the scientist ignored him. Hanzo shook his head, looked like the cowboy had jumped out of bed five minutes ago in a hurry, eye boogers in his eyes and still yawning.

“Athena, are we ready?” Winston asked.

“Yes, Winston,” the AI informed and displayed the list of topics on the screen.

“Not a morning person?” Hanzo whispered to McCree and a sleepy smile crept on his face.

“You know what they say,” Dr. Ziegler said to the cowboy, lifting her forefinger in the air ready for a lecture.

“Yeah, yeah, make hay while the sun shines,” the cowboy finished for her while the doctor frowned and Genji repressed a chuckle at the grumpy cowboy.

“Well said, Jesse,” Lena smiled.

“Good morning everyone,” Winston said, fixing his glasses. “We have a potential mission ahead of us.” He cleared his throat. “The following information has reached our hands thanks to Fareeha and her connections to Helix Security International. You have an extensive report accessible within Athena, but I will review with you now the most important details.”

“I appreciate the shortcut,” McCree said, smiling widely knowing he would definitely not read the whole thing.

“Before the recall, Helix experienced a breach in their security in an old Overwatch base, Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. Someone infiltrated the place and stole valuable technology and prototypes, one particularly dangerous, a heavy pulse rifle.”

“Talon?” Genji asked. It wouldn’t be the first time the criminal organization tried to steal technology or intel from Overwatch.

“No personnel was killed,” Winston said.

“That ain’t Talon’s style,” McCree said, glancing at Genji.

“The reports point to someone that calls himself Soldier 76,” the scientist informed while he sat in his wheel with a sigh.

“Do we know who he is?” Dr. Ziegler asked and Winston nodded a negative at her.

“His identity remains unknown. A testimony of one of the Helix guards states he had strength and speed beyond a normal person and military training.”

“Are you lookin’ for a recruit, Winston?” McCree teased. A mysterious vigilante who stole cut-edge technology for himself but wouldn’t harm anyone in the process? Fit right into Winston’s idea of what an Overwatch member should be.

“We cannot let thieves join us!” Lena complained.

“Ya’ know who you’re talkin’ to, right sweetheart?” McCree chuckled. Lena opened his mouth but closed it quickly, pursing her lips and frowning.

“I don’t want to recruit him,” Winston waved his hand. “I want to stop him, he cannot steal Overwatch resources for his own motives, besides he is no threat now but we cannot foresee his actions.”

“And you’re absolutely right,” Angela said. “This _soldier_ must be stopped and put behind bars.”

“He’s been seen near Dorado, so I’m sending a team there to investigate and possibly find out his identity,” Winston explained.

McCree flinched, wanting to contact Olivia to find out more about this mystery man He hadn’t expected to see her so soon but if someone had an idea about who this soldier 76 was, it was Sombra.

“What is he doing there?” Hanzo asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Good question, apparently he’s messing around with Los Muertos, we don’t know if allies or enemies yet, that is also your job,” Winston said, implying it would be Hanzo’s first mission.

“Who’s goin’?” McCree bluntly asked, curious, shifting his position and brushing Hanzo’s elbow in the process.

“You are up to this one, and so are Genji and Hanzo,” Winston said, glancing at them who nodded in agreement at the assignment. McCree had a half-smile on his face, unable to hide he was more than happy to be out of Gibraltar and on Hanzo’s first mission.

“Find the guy, stop the guy, recover the rifle, consider it done,” McCree said.

“Very well, you’re leaving tomorrow,” Winston finished. “We go over the mission again tonight to tight loose ends.”

“Perfect,” Hanzo said, and Genji winked at him. His first assignment as an Overwatch member. His first work in a long time. Hanzo’s stomach clenched by the excitement.

“Next topic: London’s situation,” Winston continued.

“Ain’t we done yet?” McCree sighed, making Hanzo chuckle at his side.

 

Jesse McCree loved a nice afternoon doing nothing, dozing in front of the television which babbled about the situation in London, the tension in the city hadn’t been that bad since the uprising. He snuggled on the couch, lying there, more than ready for a nap; his hat over his face so no one would bother him.

The imminent mission got him excited, not because he was already bored but because he would go with Genji _and_ Hanzo. Giggles and a muffled conversation distracted him, and Jesse grunted, anticipating his chances of a quiet nap had disappeared. Someone took the hat from his face and he blinked, the light blinding him momentarily.

“Hi!” an annoying voice said, and he groaned as a reply. Hana Song. She had arrived at the base two hours ago to inform Winston about the situation in Korea. The girl fought as a member of the _Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army_ , also known as MEKA; but she fit Overwatch goals perfectly, and she had been willing to help since the very beginning, even if she was only nineteen years old.

Winston was all about recruiting newly capable vigilantes around the world to help Overwatch’s cause and avoid a disaster such as the first omnic war. Worldwide security was an overambitious target.

“Cheers, love!” Lena said, sitting at the other side of the couch on top of his legs.

“Ya’ two nightmares won’t let me take a nap,” McCree complained, writhing under her weight.

“I think your clock’s off, no time for naps,” Hana said, stealing his hat and wearing it herself. “Am I cute?”

“Pretty as a peach,” McCree said, chuckling. He had met the girl a few times and, though she was annoying as hell and too restless, he liked her resolve. She was competitive and always gave a hundred percent in what she did, and she was a damn good shooter too; McCree found hard to believe he had learned her skills at a video game called _16-bit Hero_.

“You didn’t even look at me!” Hana pouted and reached for her phone to take a selfie wearing McCree’s old Stetson hat, that was way too big for her.

Hanzo and Genji grabbed the cowboy’s attention coming downstairs and chatting lively. His gaze went right to the archer, wearing a pair of blue sweatpants and a black shirt way too tight that made his lip twitch into a half-smile. Hanzo wore his hair up in a bun, as always, and McCree wondered how would Hanzo look with his hair loose, framing his face, disheveled over a pillow.

 _Shit_.

“Hey, guys! Where are you going?” Lena asked. The girl seemed to have a gift for creating a conversation out of obvious things. Hanzo was carrying a gym bag and Genji had the grey hoodie he wore to train every day.

“I am going to kick my brother’s ass at Aikido,” Genji said with a smirk.

“You are hardly a challenge, Genji,” Hanzo snorted, and then he fixed his gaze on the cowboy, tilting his head as a greeting. McCree smiled at him, suddenly unaware of the rest of the people in the room.

“ _Now_ you got my attention,” Hana said, portraying a smug smile on her face and looking at the two brothers who shared a puzzled gaze. “Can I record it for my channel?”

“Most definitely not,” Hanzo said, frowning. And McCree chuckled at the girl’s resolve and pouting face.

“But you guys can come and watch,” Genji said, encouraging a giggle from Hana.

“Later,” McCree casually dropped, but wanting to follow them right away even if that meant being too obvious, but he could use Hana’s interest in his advantage.

Lena left to find Winston and do another check up at his chronal accelerator and McCree sat on the couch, recovering his hat while Hana narrowed his eyes at him.

“What?” The cowboy asked, but knowing exactly what that look meant.

“I’m leaving later tonight and I was thinking…” Hana said, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Ya’ wanna go watch?” McCree chuckled at the enthusiastic nod from the girl.

 

The gym facilities and the training rooms were at another building in front of the main quarters, he and Genji joked on their way there, and he had a perfect opportunity to embarrass his little brother about his encounter with Dr. Ziegler the other night.

Genji had been shy at first, rubbing nervously the back of his neck and blushing; but Hanzo saw the happiness in his eyes and wished him the best. Now he had a chance to be the older brother he deserved and act like one, instead of acting as the first born in a house full of lies and odd expectations, that encouraged the rivalry between them. They could be themselves for a change.

Hanzo hadn’t had a decent challenge in years, but his brother, though he would never acknowledge this, was and always had been a worthy opponent, especially in the art of aikido. They had been practicing together in their youth, complementing the sword and kyudo training and they had solved more than one grudge in the dojo.

They warmed up quickly, following a routine they both remembered pretty well from their younger years, exchanging the roles in a defensive or offensive position and sharing glances and smiles, both recalling better times in Hanamura. Happy ones, when being brothers meant exactly that and they could have fun challenging one another.

“I miss my hakama,” Hanzo said, drying the sweat from his forehead.

“You are too formal, brother,” Genji laughed. “But you are going down.” The ninja took off his shirt, exposing his synthetic parts without a trace of shame. Hanzo hesitated at first, swallowing and trying not to stare, but Genji’s kind eyes told him everything was fine.

His right arm was completely mechanical, joined to his torso by a plate that fused into the flesh on his chest and down his stomach until it got lost into the waistband of his pants. Genji interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms and shoulders at the front and then at the back, getting ready for the real reason they were there.

“Enough warm up,” he said with a mischievous smile. Hanzo loved his brother’s competitive edge.

“Try to keep up,” Hanzo bragged, taking off his black shirt and discarding it carelessly in a corner of the mat. He missed the ritualistic aura of practicing aikido in Hanamura, the dojo, the tatami floor and the hakama. The almost permanent smell of cherry blossoms that lingered in the family castle. But now he had his brother back.

They danced around each other, feet tiptoeing rhythmically. Hanzo was always patient, getting ready for his opponent’s attack and keeping an eye for an opening. Genji always rushed his attacks that was his weakness. Too fast, too quick, but too impatience. His face turned into a grimace at the frustration and into a slight smile when he wanted to attack. But that was the old Genji.

“You are more patient, Genji,” Hanzo said, making him smile at the praise. “You do not rush your attacks like you used to.” The archer had his eyes fixed on Genji’s hands and feet until the gym door opened and he saw McCree and Hana entering quietly.

Hana had dragged McCree to the gym, well, he pretended to be dragged there because there was nothing he wanted more than to see Hanzo Shimada in action. Lena had gone to visit Winston and, as soon as they were alone, the girl wouldn’t stop whining until the cowboy agreed to go with her to nose around the Shimada brothers. And there he was, Hanzo breaking a sweat, barefoot and… _Damn. Shirtless_.

McCree suppressed a gasp and nervously tipped the brim of his hat, not listening to the sighs in awe of Hana or how she grasped his arm to lean on a nearby wall where they would have a better view of the exhibition. And what an exhibition.

Hanzo exchanged a look with him, or so he thought because Genji grasped Hanzo’s wrist, twisting it at an impossible angle and making the archer stumble and fall on his back with a loud noise.  Only Hanzo Shimada could hit the ground gracefully. The cowboy’s lips curved into a wolfish grin and he clicked his tongue.

“Something distracting you, brother?” Genji said, lending a hand to Hanzo who stood and chuckled, getting ready for another round.

They circled around each other again and Hanzo tried to ignore the eyes of the cowboy on him, but he couldn’t. He had seen him the other day watching attentively while he removed his shirt after the repair, and his staring made Hanzo feel naked, receiving an attention he was not used to, liking it maybe a little too much.

Genji’s lip crooked upwards and Hanzo knew exactly what he would try. He nimbly dodged his brother’s attack with a swipe of his right foot, grasping his wrist and elbow and making him fall unceremoniously on the floor. The metal felt strange under his grip but Hanzo didn’t flinch, if his brother had accepted himself so would he, no matter what.

“ _Kuso_ ,” Genji cursed in Japanese, eliciting a soft chuckle from his older brother. Hana repressed a gasp of disappointment while McCree, unable to wipe the grin on his face, nodded at Hanzo.

Hanzo’s stomach clenched, and he unintentionally flexed, now more aware that McCree had his attention on him. He was probably there to accompany Hana and nothing else, but Hanzo enjoyed his presence and the moments they were spending together these past weeks.

Whenever the cowboy entered the room, he felt more himself than ever, even flirty sometimes, relishing in the attention McCree granted him, the soft touches, the familiarity of his smell and his laugh. Getting to know him was a challenge, they both avoided complicated topics, but they shared knowing silences staring at the night sky.

Hanzo barely dodged an attack from Genji, repositioning quickly without time to counterattack. McCree was distracting him, he thought while he studied Genji’s movements. After all this time, he could still read him well enough to predict his thoughts, more calmed and mature, sure, but sometimes rushed, interrupted before being fully executed.

Genji reached for his left arm and the dragons stirred within his chest at the direct contact. Their gazes met and Hanzo knew Genji had felt the same, a knowing smile growing on his lips. Hanzo anchored his feet strongly, incapacitated but his brother unable to take him down. And the archer was good, Genji knew, and using too much force would be counterproductive and would take himself down instead.

Ready to use his leverage wisely, Hanzo pulled up his arm, but Genji twisted over his feet, securing Hanzo’s ankle and making him stumble. The archer cursed when his back hit the floor again and Genji tackled him, smiling triumphantly at the sudden victory.

A throaty chuckle from Hanzo made his brother frown and, not standing a chance, the archer secured the grip on Genji’s left arm, twisting his wrist. Genji arched his back and Hanzo manhandled him until his stomach touched the floor and a groan of pain left his lungs. The archer kneeled next to him and kept his position until Genji tapped the floor with his free hand, then he released him and helped him.

“ _Mada,_ _mada_ ,” Genji said, disappointed.

“Strive for perfection,” Hanzo replied, a proud brotherly smile brightening up his face and making Genji chuckle.

This was not about winning but about doing something familiar to them, something they used to do and something they could do again from now on. Hanzo extended a hand respectfully and Genji held his forearm for a few seconds, both looking at each other with a joy shared by the dragons inside them until his little brother pulled him into a half hug.

Hanzo’s heart sped up at the gesture, tightening the grip on his brother’s arm and yielding to a much-delayed hug between them. They were never the ones to show affection like this, but he patted Genji’s back when he felt his brother’s unsettled breath, reassuring him. They’ve come a long way.

A wishful sigh left Hana and McCree’s lips in unison at the sight of the two brothers, shirtless, sweaty, and hugging finally after years of being apart. They slowly turn their heads to glance at each other, fearful of being the witnesses of a shared gasp that should not have happened at all, at least not in the presence of others.

“Who was that for, kid?” McCree asked, narrowing his eyes at the young girl who suddenly blushed adorably at his question.

“Genji…” Hana said, pursing her lips. “You?”

“Hanzo,” McCree said, extending a fist to the girl with his pinky finger up in a hook. Hana stared at it doubtfully before glancing at him. “Your secret is safe with me, darlin’.” Hana chuckled and linked her pinky finger around the cowboy’s.

“Pinky promise,” she said, shaking their arms in every word.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” McCree finished, winking at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan that hug at all! It came on its own and I loved it <3
> 
> Next Chapter:
> 
> “I’ma gonna let Hanzo pick the side,” McCree clicked his tongue, studying Genji’s reaction.  
> “You want to share the bed with my brother?” Genji asked, arching an eyebrow at him.


	9. Buñuelos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji, Hanzo and McCree arrive in Dorado.

_Dorado, 2076_

“There must be a mistake,” Hanzo said. “I am going to the reception to complain.” The archer closed the room door behind him, decided to fix the issue while Genji and McCree lay comfortably on the double bed, laughing. Hanzo’s eyes had opened wide when they entered the room and there were two beds, a double and a single, for the three of them.

They had arrived at Dorado earlier that day, and Winston suggested to use a hotel instead of a safe house to go unnoticed. McCree was familiar with the city, he had been there before, and the Misión Dorado was a nice resort for tourists especially around this time of the year.

The Festival de la Luz was a yearly tradition people around the area celebrated to honor the end of the omnic crisis that had sunk Mexico into chaos. A nice reminder of what Overwatch couldn’t let happen again.

“Where do you want to sleep, Jesse?” Genji asked, still chuckling softly at his brother’s reaction.

“I reckon this double has my name on it,” McCree said with a mischievous smile.

“Side?” Genji said.

“I’ma gonna let Hanzo pick the side,” McCree clicked his tongue, studying Genji’s reaction.

“You want to share the bed with my brother?” Genji asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“To tease him,” McCree said, portraying an innocent smile which Genji didn’t buy not even for a second.

“Yeah, sure,” Genji said, repressing a guffaw. The interest of the cowboy in his brother was getting more obvious every day.

“Learned from the best, darlin’,” McCree said and sighed. Sharing a bed with the archer was something McCree wouldn’t miss out on, and yet he masked his interest with humor in front of Genji. Though deep inside, the cowboy had no expectations whatsoever, and yet he couldn’t help to flirt with Hanzo at any chance even if he was developing something you could call a crush.

“Hey, how are things with the pretty doctor?” the cowboy asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Genji, who blushed at the question. The lightheaded conversation would take his mind away from tonight and the perspective of Hanzo beside him on the bed.

“Good, really good,” Genji said, smiling.

“Saw you getting’ some sugar the other night,” McCree pushed his ribs with a teasing elbow

“That was unexpected, as in very welcomed unexpected, though I still want to take her out on a proper date,” Genji said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ya’ gotta treat a lady right.”

“We have not…” McCree turned his head to look at Genji. “… slept together. Yet,” Genji said, lowering his voice for whatever strange reason the cowboy didn’t understand. “But I want to.”

“Well, she already saw you naked plenty of times,” McCree teased.

“Shut up,” Genji said.

“She knows what’s at stake here,” McCree pointed Genji’s groin awkwardly. “It’s a matter of time ya’ two…”

“Shut up, it is not that,” Genji sighed. “I used to rush things with girls, get bored and be an asshole, though that was a long time ago and this is completely different.”

“Ya’ want it to be special, I get it,” McCree brushed his hair teasingly like any proud brother would do. “Have you told her how ya’ feel?”

“Not yet,” Genji sighed. “But I will.”

“Tell her,” McCree said very seriously. “And don't sleep on blue balls kid, that’s bad for your health,” the cowboy finished with a chuckle.

“Why do I always fall for this and ask for your advice?” Genji said, embarrassed, burying his face in a nearby pillow to muffle his groans of frustration and the guffaws of McCree.

“I’m happy for ya’.” McCree loved to tease Genji or anyone for that matter, but he was truly happy for his friend, not only because of Angela but because he resumed his relationship with his brother and they both seemed to need it. The door opened bluntly and Hanzo came inside, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking his coat off.

“This will have to do,” Hanzo said and sighed. “The hotel is fully booked.”

“We knew that fifteen minutes ago, honey,” McCree said, his lip twitching in a lopsided smile.

“I assume the single is mine,” Hanzo said, grabbing his bag and walking toward the bed near the window. McCree pushed Genji insistently with his elbow again and the ninja jumped swiftly to the single bed between chuckles. “Or I have made an error in judgment,” Hanzo said, furrowing.

“Yer stuck with the cowboy,” McCree said, grinning.

The prospect sent a thrill through his body and clenched his stomach. He could do that, share the bed with McCree, they were teammates after all and they had an important mission ahead.

 

Hanzo smiled at the beautiful lights that adorned the streets along with the colorful piñatas, the smell of sweet strange treats, and the people bursting in excitement because of the festival. It reminded him of the hanami; the aura around the celebration, it was quite the opposite in his country because here everything was too loud, music playing in every corner, the screaming of the kids; but the people gathering together had the same resemblance.

People poured out of the hotel conveniently, his disguise and the ongoing mission, covered by the fuzz around. He was patiently waiting for McCree at the entrance. They would inspect the area and check for potential trouble though Winston and McCree agreed that there would be no threats in the middle of the celebration. Los Muertos operated in the area and they were criminals and troublemakers, but they knew better than to spoil the fun for his own people.

McCree spotted Hanzo quickly in the crowd and his heart skipped a beat at the sight. The archer had left the room before he came out of the shower and he had missed how damn hot he looked. His old jeans and the white and red checkered flannel fell short in front of Hanzo wearing dark grey trousers that fit too damn well for McCree’s sake, and a buttoned-up black shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow showing the tattoo and a black beads bracelet he hadn’t noticed before.

The cowboy admired him from a distance, adjusting his hat and the serape, drying his clammy hands into his jeans until he realized he probably was being obvious about the fact he was way too attracted to him. How not to be? The lock of hair framing his right side, the one he badly wanted to tuck behind his ear and the rest of his hair into a bun at the back of his head. Hanzo turned around and saw McCree looking at him. He waved, and the cowboy walked towards him a little hesitant.

“Genji?” Hanzo asked.

“He said he was too tired,” McCree said. “I told him we could handle this on our own.”

“So predictable,” Hanzo chuckled. “You know the place, I follow you, cowboy,” the archer said, glancing at the attire and the hat. McCree was really the eternal cowboy in every situation.

A wolfish grin spread on McCree’s lips and he gestured Hanzo to follow him. They walked among the crowd, the stone pavement streets hard under his feet. It was refreshing and strange being in such an odd place, it is almost as though they were in an alternate universe, everyone was cheerful and the atmosphere full of joy. The cowboy tapped his arm and winked at him, pointing at a place called Las Nieblas.

“I bet ya’ have a sweet tooth,” McCree said, opening the door of the establishment for him. Such an unnecessary gesture that made Hanzo roll his eyes. “After you.”

It smelled delicious inside, like burnt sugar and fresh bread. A middle-aged woman was behind the counter which displayed a variety of sweets and treats unknown to Hanzo.

“Buñuelos. Media docena, por favor,” McCree said, placing the pesos on top of the counter.

“Do you speak Spanish?” Hanzo asked, glancing up at the cowboy.

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” he teased, making Hanzo chuckle.

“How come you know this place so well?” Hanzo said, taking the buñuelo McCree offered him and sniffing at it before taking a bite. It was a thin rounded pancake but hard in texture. His fingers were getting soaked in powdered sugar and he did not expect the taste at all. It was sweet and fried dough, but so deliciously soft and crunchy he ate the whole thing shamelessly quick.

“A good friend of mine lives in Mexico,” McCree said, smiling at the memories of he and Olivia attending the festival a few years back.

“I see,” Hanzo said, reaching for another buñuelo from the paper bag in the cowboy’s hands while McCree repressed a chuckle.

“Alejandra no tardes!” the woman yelled while a little girl sneaked between them at the door and escaped, getting lost in the crowd.

They walked the main street that led to a big square with a fountain in the middle, there were a lot of little stalls around it selling garlands and handmade colorful things that amazed Hanzo. It was overwhelming, but he relished in the cowboy’s reassuring company at his side.

“How is this _working_ , exactly?” Hanzo said, swallowing the last piece of his sweet treat and licking his lips, trapping any trace of sugar that might be stuck there or in his beard.

“Hey, I’m keepin’ an eye for bad guys, I don't know ‘bout ya’, partner,” McCree said, glancing at him and catching Hanzo licking his fingers greedily one by one. He froze and stopped, swallowing and trying not to put hat lewdly face he made when he thought of bad things. Like the ones he wanted to do to him right damn now watching that tongue hoarding the sugar from his fingers and that thumb resting on top of his tongue inside his partly opened mouth.

 _Damn_.

“What?” Hanzo said, puzzled. McCree blinked and cleared his throat.

“I bet yer thirsty, I’m a hell of a thirsty cowboy right now,” McCree said, chuckling softly and adjusting discreetly his jeans.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes and a half-smile appeared on his face, not quite understanding what had just happened, but well, he almost enjoyed that Genji had stayed in the hotel instead of accompanying them. And then he felt a little guilty about it.

He followed McCree around, lurking the streets, avoiding excessively crowded places, he seemed to know every shortcut and every alley to lead them exactly where he wanted. And Hanzo enjoyed the little buildings painted in red, yellow and green, the distant chatter in the background that muffled their conversation and their laughs.

And he forgot they were on a mission, Hanzo forgot they were there to inspect the area safely and without waking suspicion, forgot about Overwatch, his brother, his past and the emptiness in his heart. He forgot all about that because a cowboy was smiling at him at every turn, at every corner. He forgot because he bought a beer for him so cold and so perfect he gulped it down in an instant and McCree offered his own before ordering another one for himself.

And he felt alive, for the first time in ten years. No, for the first time in his whole life. Where he could be himself, Hanzo, no Shimada, no assassin, no crime lord. Just Hanzo, with a grinning, flirty, charming cowboy at his side.

McCree lost his head, he didn’t care anymore about anything that didn’t involve Hanzo, maybe it was the beer or the cheerful people around them, but the initial plan went to hell and he just wanted to show him around, to share all the little things about Dorado that he loved and that he suspected Hanzo would enjoy. From the buñuelos to the cerveza, the buildings, the piñatas, the balcony where you could see the sea and the moonlight reflecting on the waves.

He cursed his stupid heart for being excited about it, but he shut down his brain and just enjoyed the moment as though he wasn’t a killer, an outlaw, a man with a juicy price on his head for all the bad he had done in his life, one he could never repay. But he didn’t care anymore because tonight he was Jesse and he was with Hanzo.

“We’re supposed to blend in, sweetheart,” McCree said, laughing openly in a deserted street. They had been walking almost to the Lumérico facilities and the big square in front of it, past the city council. McCree knew the best view of the ocean was there and he had wanted to show Hanzo.

“You are not blending in wearing that,” Hanzo said, pointing at McCree’s hat.

“Said the yakuza,” McCree replied, grasping Hanzo’s left arm. “Come on, let’s take a detour before headin’ back, we might even work tonight after all.”

The cowboy chuckled and Hanzo followed him down the market street, where they turned right into a less transited street framed by residential buildings. Hanzo got a glimpse of a sign that read Calle Colomar and stepped right behind McCree. He hadn’t noticed how tall he was until tonight, a good six inches taller than him, more with the hat on.

“McCree, how is it called?” McCree turned around and frowned. “The _blanket_ you are wearing,” Hanzo said, unsure of how to name the red thing enveloping him.

“Serape,” the cowboy said, with a half-smile.

“Are you aware it has a hole?” Hanzo arched an eyebrow at him and McCree snorted.

“We all have our flaws, sweetheart, you’re pretty an’ mean,” the cowboy said, and a throaty laugh from Hanzo echoed in the alley.

This was a different part of the city; darker and with glowing graffiti he hadn’t noticed before, full of skulls in fluorescent pink and green. McCree clicked his tongue and stopped, inspecting the wall.

“Around that catty-corner is our hotel, it’s a shortcut that the people of the market use to get the supplies there.”

“What about this?” Hanzo said, pointing at a weird graffiti.

“That is exactly what I was looking for,” McCree said, taking out his phone to take a picture. “Los Muertos use these drawings to send information to the organization, untraceable to the police.”

“Smart, can we translate that into something useful?”

“I know who can,” McCree kept his phone in his pocket and smiled at Hanzo. But glancing at the end of the alley he listened to voices and a group of what looked like young men approaching them. They would cross their way and McCree wasn’t sure if they were friendly or thugs, he suddenly cursed inwardly at how naïve he had been inspecting this area when the festival was over and the streets emptied from the safety they had enjoyed before.

McCree saw the confusion on Hanzo’s face and he pushed him gently to the wall, pressing Hanzo’s back to it. The archer gasped and McCree couldn’t repress the twitch on the corner of his lip at the slight blush on Hanzo’s cheeks. Hanzo didn’t flinch back when McCree rested his forearm on the wall above his head, realizing he was actually a lot taller than him and that he had never been this close.

“Did you get me into a dark alley on purpose, McCree?” Hanzo said, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head up to look at him. The wall was cold and damp but Hanzo didn’t care.

“’Bout time you start calling me Jesse, don't ya’ think?” he said, signaling with his eyes to the right at the same time he tilted his head, so Hanzo could take a peek at the loud group slowly approaching them.

“I see,” Hanzo whispered, avoiding eye contact with the cowboy and blushing even deeper at having misunderstood the situation. This was one of those moments he felt like crawling into a hole and hiding.

“We’re just couple makin’ out in an alley, nothin’ fancy,” McCree joked, leaning forward, so close Hanzo could smell the familiar scent of the cowboy so perfectly it clenched his stomach and clouded his senses. McCree placed his other hand on the wall right next to his waist and Hanzo’s heart thumped at the obvious contact and the closeness. He risked a glance at McCree.

Hanzo Shimada was not a coward and would not run away from this. A firm hand gripped the serape near his neck, not sure if he felt the need at his wobbly legs or to pull McCree closer to him so he could whisper the words right into his mouth and that stupid, sexy grin he had on it.

“We are technically not making out, cowboy,” Hanzo teased, his breath not giving away his rattled soul. He would swear that he heard McCree groan at his words and he wondered how a moan would taste in the warmth of his mouth. McCree made eye contact with him but risked a glance at his lips that didn’t go unnoticed by Hanzo.

“An’ why do ya’ sound disappointed at that, darlin’?” the cowboy said. It was so tempting to just lean forward and press his whole aching body against Hanzo, to press the bulge on his groin into his thigh and prove his point exactly without words.

“Me?” Hanzo said. “You are the one blushing.”

“No, I ain’t,” McCree said, cursing at the heat coming from his cheeks that the darkness did not conceal, and at the man in front of him for being so damn irresistible the only thing he could think about right now was to kiss him senseless until he passed out from lack of air, and then die probably from an arrow at the heart.

“I knew you were a shameless flirt, cowboy,” Hanzo purred, stealing the smile from McCree’s face who suddenly looked at him as though he was the prey and McCree was the hunter, prowling around him, weighing his options. And he would love to let the cowboy hunt him any day gladly.

The loud steps of the group resounded closer, the voices unworried and lively while they stared at each other, trapped in a moment so brief and so infinite that none of them wanted to move an inch from their bodies, scared to breathe deeper and unleash the little restraint they had left in them.

McCree’s eyes looked into his, dark and kind, a mixture of lust and amusement that suggested more than he could ever imagine. Hanzo gasped, gripping the fabric with white-knuckle force and focused on that arm brushing his waist and the warm breath of the cowboy warming his lips. Too close, too tempting, he was dizzy, unaware of the world, fighting not to close his eyes and yield to…

“Get a room!” The group yelled between laughs and jokes, walking past them without paying any attention. McCree cleared his throat and backed off, leaving Hanzo catching a much-needed sharp of air and a not so needed space, and Hanzo sighed, his head catching up with the air he allowed his lungs to breathe while he discreetly smoothed out the fabric of his trousers.

“Nice performance, Hanzo,” McCree said, trying to mask the hectic breathing and blaming the uncomfortable lack of room in his jeans. It had been so close. He had him there, and he had frozen.

“Thank you, Jesse,” he said, blushing. “You too.”

McCree rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously at how right his name sounded in Hanzo’s voice, wanting to listen to it endlessly in a variety of tones, preferably over a long and sweaty night.

“We should head back, I guess we got what we needed in the end,” McCree said.

“Almost,” Hanzo said. “I mean, yes, we did.”

The way back they shared a comfortable silence, but the only thing on McCree’s mind was how was he going to share the bed with the man he had almost kissed, who casually was his new partner in crime; and Hanzo cursed the lingering smell of the cowboy still mixed with his own and how he already missed the proximity and the lips he had so close and, at the same time, so out of his reach. Lips Hanzo wanted to feast on.


	10. Destroyed Piñatas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys keep hunting Soldier 76.

_Mexico, 2076_

 Hanzo woke up from a decent night of sleep, too decent for a strange hotel bed and to be sharing it with McCree. He nuzzled into the pillow he was hugging and opened his eyes, getting used to the dim light seeping through the windows.

He found McCree next to him, close, but not as close as last night in the alley. The cowboy was still sleeping and Hanzo took advantage of the darkness and his dazed, sleepy mind to stare at the cowboy as though he was stealing something that didn’t belong to him.

The subtle snoring coming from him filled the room, and his eyes roamed shyly over his face, studying his features. Hanzo wondered how hadn’t he noticed before how handsome McCree really was. That disheveled look only complemented his natural charm, the tanned skin compared to his, the messy stubble gathering in the right places, and his brown hair in need of a haircut that he knew McCree wouldn’t take anytime soon.

Everything about him was mesmerizing, and when his eyes got tired of his face, Hanzo focused on the body that wasn’t covered by the sheets, on the fuzz that grew on McCree’s chest and arm. His usual attire didn’t let you enjoy the well-sculpted muscles underneath and Hanzo’s mind rambled, following the line of his jaw, the broad shoulder and further down, getting lost at what he couldn’t see under the sheets.

Hanzo swallowed, the slumber of the early morning taking away the clouded thoughts and reason hitting him hard. As hard as the need between his legs that he tried to scorn in vain. He cursed inwardly and turned around to find out Genji wasn’t in his bed. He carefully sat, not wanting to wake up the cowboy, and checked the hour.

_I overslept._

 

McCree stretched and grunted as he was waking up, forgetting where he was and with, until he opened his eyes wide but found nothing more than an empty bed and the stream of the shower in the background. He rolled into Hanzo’s side without thinking, smelling greedily the sheets and burying his face in the pillow, finding a warmth there from the body that had been at his side not so long ago.

 _Ya’_ _smell of sweet_ _dreams_ , he thought, but then he remembered last night, how he had almost fucked it all up wanting to shove his tongue into Hanzo’s mouth so badly he was still horny about it.

 _Damn_.

And he lacked the privacy to follow his lust and moan Hanzo’s name one more time while fantasizing about him. No, he was looking forward to a wonderful day ahead getting the hots for Hanzo. A frustrated sigh left his lungs. There was no point in torturing himself like this. McCree stood and reached for his jeans, grunting and fighting with the zipper and the belt, fitting his wet dreams there as best as he could. First breakfast, then shower.

The phone buzzed in his pocket and he put on a shirt before checking the messages. Genji was downstairs having breakfast; nothing from Sombra yet. He had sent the girl a message last night with the picture of the graffiti, hoping she will decipher the information and wishing it was useful.

 

“How was your date?” Genji smirked.

McCree hadn’t even sat his ass on the chair and he was already getting bullshit from the little shit. He should’ve known after their agreement last night. McCree looked at him furrowing and clicked his tongue before speaking. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Stay so I can show Hanzo around?” Genji recalled his words from last night and McCree shushed him, annoyed.

“We had a deal,” McCree said.

“So? You’re not fooling me, Jesse,” Genji teased. The cowboy had never been good pretending or hiding his crushes. He remembered how McCree blushed and babbled in front of Ana in their Blackwatch days, and he got over it, eventually.

“Good,” McCree said, unable to repress the smug smile on his face. “Too damn good, but I don't stand a chance, right?”

“I have never seen Hanzo fall for anybody when we were young,” Genji said, remembering how his brother rejected almost every boy that dared to pester him. “It was complicated, you know?”

“I get it,” McCree said. “An’ it would be a nuisance working together with an’ all that, right?” McCree asked, wanting someone to call him off before it was too late. “I’m helpless.” He sighed, burying his face in his hands. “Why do I do this to myself?”

“Come on, you can’t be that into him,” Genji teased.

McCree considered his options. Was he? He was a thirty-seven-year-old man, he positively knew when he wanted to bang someone and he wanted Hanzo in his bed by yesterday. But did Hanzo want him? He flirted sometimes, but he didn’t look like the guy to jump into a nightstand easily.

And McCree wanted to do so many bad things to him he wouldn’t know where to start, would be a night enough? Because tonight he had woken up several times crawling to Hanzo’s body in his sleep and finding himself embarrassingly close, relishing in a touch that was not nearly enough for his lascivious mind.

And last night, when they had almost kissed, he thought he had imagined Hanzo’s interest, but for a moment, a lightning idea struck his mind: Hanzo wanted to kiss him too, wanted to rut against him just as fiercely as him, that he was striving to control himself. McCree shook his head and gasped.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” McCree sighed. “I’m tellin’ ya, I’m too old for crushes.”

“Quoting a wise friend of mine,” Genji cleared his throat, “do not sleep on blue balls, it is bad for your health,” Genji said, failing to repress the shit-eating grin as he dropped every word and watched the cowboy glare at him.

But before McCree could protest, his phone buzzed, and he saw a message from Sombra. _Tonight._ _Callejón_ _Azteca. Too_ _busy_ _to_ _meet_ _you, vaquero. I_ _got_ _something_ _juicy_ _in my_ _hands_ _._ McCree frowned and read the message again. Sometimes he hated the mysterious cliffhangers from Olivia, but it was part of her charm.

“What is it?” Genji asked, knowing his expression a little too well.

“We got work to do,” McCree said. “An’ it ain’t gonna be half as fun as last night’s.”

“What happened last night?” Genji said, arching a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“Nothin’. Call Winston,” McCree said, a wolfish grin spread on his lips.

 

The market square looked so different from last night as Hanzo stared at it from the safety of a balcony, hiding with McCree by his side while Genji patrolled the area. His speed and his agility combined with his stealthy ninja skills were ideal for that kind of job. They kept an eye on the Callejón Azteca from a safe distance, controlling all the entrances to the square.

Hanzo gripped tightly his bow, inspecting the area for any movement. Easy task, it was late enough in the evening, the festival had ended yesterday, and the streets were empty. McCree had granted him a lopsided smile when he saw the bow, skeptical, and Hanzo couldn’t blame him, it was not the most efficient weapon in most hands, but in his, it was as deadly as McCree’s gun and far more discreet.

“Nothing yet,” Genji said through the comms right into McCree’s and Hanzo’s ear.

“Do you think the mysterious soldier will appear?” Hanzo asked.

“If he’s in the area and Los Muertos dare to move a cargo, I bet my cowboy ass he will,” McCree said. “Free weapons are always temptin’.”

“McCree,” Hanzo said, pointing at the street with his head. Three men entered the square from the alley they had been last night. Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat at the memory but he pushed the thoughts away and focused on the thugs walking to the farthest exit and standing near the Callejon Azteca as though they were waiting for something.

“Ya’ see those white marks on their skin?” Hanzo narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Those are Los Muertos tattoos and they glow in the dark.”

“Not very useful to camouflage themselves,” Hanzo snorted.

“White van heading to the square,” Genji warned, and McCree ducked behind the railing and Hanzo mimicked him while he risked a peek at the square and watched the vehicle stop, quickly picking up the guys and rushing down the Calle Portero.

“Dang,” McCree said. “Genji?”

“I’m on it. They went behind the History Museum, flank them, I’ll follow them around. I saw something weird,” Genji said.

“Got it,” McCree smiled at Hanzo. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” The cowboy only had time to blink when Hanzo jumped down the balcony as though he weighed nothing with an agility that amazed him and he chuckled, jumping right behind him and grunting when his feet hit the pavement.

They swiftly walked the streets, Hanzo following McCree who traced a smart route to cut the distance and go around the bank to where, according to Genji, the van had stopped in front of a building. If Los Muertos wanted to get out from there, they would have to go through them and the one-way street they lurked in. Suddenly, McCree listened to a fast and subtle noise behind him, an arrow, followed by a muted grunt and the familiar noise of a body dropping dead nearby.

“Second balcony,” Hanzo said with a smirk. “A sentry, there will be more.”

“Pretty handy with that bow,” McCree teased and melted at the spark on Hanzo’s eyes at the praise.

The darkness of the streets concealed the deadly path they traced, he let Hanzo take down the ones posting guard but soon Los Muertos figured out something was off, and the infiltration plan failed. They acknowleged their presence, and they got stuck, hidden in an alley, with four men in front of them and two behind, who luckily, hadn’t noticed yet.

“Soldier 76 is here,” Genji said, he seemed slightly out of breath through the comm channel. “He is fast, way too fast even for me.”

“What’s he doin’?” McCree asked.

“He has taken down two of their men and he is openly confronting the ones loading crates in the van,” Genji informed. McCree recognized the modus operandi of his Deadlock Gang days and what Sombra had told him. Los Muertos smuggled the weapons into crates full of piñatas and moved them from one safe house to another in hours where a van with an innocent cargo wasn’t suspicious. “But there is a little girl here,” Genji continued, concern settling in his voice. “She’s in the middle of a war zone, hiding behind a dumpster.”

“Damn it,” McCree cursed. “She is your priority now.”

“Affirmative. Genji out.”

“Guess is just ya’ an’ me, Hanzo,” McCree said, winking at him.

“Perfect,” the archer said.

Before they could plan an attack to take down the surrounding men from his hideout, gunshots filled the air, alarming the reinforcements. McCree saw two men running towards the noise, and movement on the roofs. It was hard to know how many of them were, but one thing was clear: they couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

“Lights off!” one of the thugs screamed, and the streets fell into darkness, the sun too low to improve the situation.

“Foolish,” Hanzo said, skillfully taking down two men on the upper roof who glowed like fireflies in the dark thanks to the tattoos on their skin. McCree shot in the back the two rushing up front and chuckled. “That thing is too loud, cowboy.”

“Just like me,” McCree said, twirling Peacekeeper in his trigger finger with a flourish. Hanzo couldn’t help but smile at a gesture he had only seen in cowboy movies.

They were in a perfect position to flank the van upfront if Los Muertos wanted to run away, but an explosion came from the far end of the street, illuminating the place momentarily. McCree cursed and signaled Hanzo to move behind him.

“The girl is fine, we’re trapped here between the van and a dead end,” Genji informed while McCree covered his other ear to listen to their comm channel. “He’s taking down Los Muertos.”

“Are you alright?” Hanzo asked, worried, and he flinched when the atmospherics flooded the communications channel. His gaze met McCree’s, and he nodded, reassuring the archer his brother would be fine. Genji was resourceful in more than one way and the cowboy knew if there were someone in trouble it would be them if the van decided to destroy everything on its way out.

“The payload is moving, stop it!” They finally heard Genji between the noise.

Hanzo followed McCree up the street right into the action, shooting bullets and arrows right and left, taking down the few reinforcements Los Muertos had in the area. Some of them were running away from the scene, and that wasn’t a good sign.

A glowing figure dropped behind Hanzo from a nearby balcony, too close range to draw his bow to shoot an arrow at him; he barely had time to dodge the first attack and a pointy dagger almost cut him on a side.

“Huh ho, excuse me,” McCree yelled at his side while a flash-bang staggered the goon, and a well-aimed bullet finished him.

“You have my thanks, gunslinger,” Hanzo said.

“Anytime, darlin’,” McCree said, touching the brim of his hat with a wolfish grin on his face.

Another explosion bigger than the first one startled them, the buildings trembled as if an earthquake had just happened and Hanzo and McCree stumbled on their feet. A death-threatening van and its roaring engine headed their way too fast from the far end of the street. They had to stop it. Genji was probably taking care of the girl, Soldier 76 nowhere to be seen, and Los Muertos were getting away with half their cargo still in the van.

“Not on my watch,” McCree said, stepping in the middle of the road and carefully aiming for the driver in the span of time he had before, well, the van would run over him. The cowboy lived for those moments where he didn’t know if he was getting alive or not and he honestly couldn’t care less. When he had a purpose, and one purpose alone, he would die happy and contented if he achieved it.

The bullet hit its target, but McCree’s lip twitched up in anticipation. He knew it would before he pulled the trigger. The van, now out of control with no one driving it, was still heading dangerously right to him, he had no time to congratulate himself for the headshot.

Hanzo jumped into the road mumbling a curse in Japanese, and tackled McCree out of the van’s way and into the sidewalk. The vehicle crashed into a dumpster and hit the front of a building but no one was harmed, albeit the loud noise surely had resounded in the neighbourhood.

The cowboy fell on his back and grunted under his weight and at the harsh fall into stone, but when he glanced up at him he was smiling. Hanzo didn’t know if he wanted to punch him or to kiss him, straddling him, with both his hands pressed strongly at both sides of his head, feeling the stone cold under them. The hat laid nonchalantly a few meters from them.

“Are you trying to kill yourself, you, madman?” Hanzo glared at him, his heart thumped fast in his chest, he felt the heat in his face and the burning in his lungs, the adrenalin making his limbs tremble. He fucking wanted to kiss McCree and erase the grin on his face, he wanted to sink his tongue into his sinful mouth and snarl at him for being a fool, risking his life so easily. Hanzo’s left arm burned, the dragons were angry, and he bent the arm and pressed the forearm on the ground.

“Worth it,” McCree said, grinning. “Don't ya’ look blue at me.” His hands, spread like a fan, grasped Hanzo’s thighs while the grin on his face grew wider at the angry man on top of him. What a damn sight was Hanzo Shimada from below. McCree wished the black sea of his hair was loose and pouring over his face, and speaking of wishes, he wished for the courage to close the distance and get Hanzo even angrier by pulling him down into a deep kiss drove by the adrenalin in his body and the eagerness of his heart.

“Anybody there? Are you okay?” Genji said through the comms. McCree cleared his throat while Hanzo stood and helped him up. His hand cold and sweaty, and McCree enjoyed the contact for as long as it lasted.

“We stopped the van, kind of,” McCree said, picking up his hat and tossing the dust off it before putting it back on. Hanzo had a stern expression on his face as though he had just seen a ghost and it clenched his gut with a bad feeling.

“The girl is fine, she hasn’t seen me but I’m taking care of her while she comes back home,” Genji informed.

McCree and Hanzo heard sirens in the distance and they got moving again, hiding from the mess they were leaving behind, luckily the police would take care of the guns and track the warehouse. “The Soldier?” McCree asked.

“Gone, he saved her from a grenade and left, maybe we can ask the girl tomorrow,” Genji said. “Is Hanzo okay?”

“I am fine. Thank you,” Hanzo said, a glimpse of a smile brightening up his face before disappearing again.

“Genji out.”

They walked in silence, concealed once more in the darkness of the now open night, the moon the only light brightening their way until they reached the alley from last night and their hotel was close enough. Finally safe. Hanzo stared at the wall McCree had pushed him against less than a day ago and grunted.

“Yer too quiet, Hanzo,” McCree said, trying to guess what was wrong with the archer and steal a much-needed smile. He didn’t know how much he liked to see him smile and laugh until a shadow had crossed his face, vanishing the glee from his eyes.

“And you are too reckless,” Hanzo growled, brushing his arm when passing by his side and hurrying to the hotel without waiting for him.

McCree stopped for a moment, watching perplex the man in front of him getting away and a half-smile crept on his face. He shouldn’t smile, he knew he had been reckless but from all the people in the world he did not expect Hanzo Shimada to care.

He _cares_ , McCree realized, walking right behind him and covering his face partly with his hat, his handy hat shielding him from the world and hiding the stupid grin on his face and the blush on his cheeks, even if nothing would conceal the storm in his heart. A cherry blossom petals storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be bad:
> 
> Barely awake, cozy and warm, McCree groaned and tried to move when he realized he couldn’t because someone was spooning him. Not someone. Hanzo.


	11. Old habits die hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last day in Dorado.

_Mexico , 2076_

McCree was reluctant to open his eyes or to admit he was awake because it would be their last day in Dorado and the last night sharing a bed with Hanzo. They were exhausted, and while Genji took a shower to clean the debris from the explosion, he only had time to take off everything but his boxers and lie on the bed. The high from the fight was still there, and Hanzo’s angry face accompanied him as he was falling asleep at his side.

Barely awake, cozy and warm, McCree groaned and tried to move when he realized he couldn’t because someone was spooning him. Not someone. Hanzo. He smiled, considering the chances of being still asleep and dreaming. But there was no denying on that steady breath warming the skin between his shoulder blades.

McCree was hardly breathing, trying to stay as still as possible to enjoy the closeness, thanking the universe for whatever reason he had been blessed with such joy. Hanzo’s leg slid between his own from behind while his left arm rested on his stomach. It took all his resolve not to moan when Hanzo snuggled into him, nuzzling at his back lovingly.

The warmth of his body pressed at his back was even better than he had imagined, strong muscles brushing his skin in Hanzo’s own breathing tempo. He was probably dead asleep, crawling to him as though he was a mere pillow and not a filthy cowboy, but damn if it wasn’t a good start to the day.

McCree opened his eyes, confirming he was indeed not dreaming, and that Hanzo was actually holding him in his sleep. _Damn_. Then he panicked at the tent forming in his underwear, his morning wood jutting rudely at the waistband. Side effects of sleeping with a gorgeous man and the lack of a good fuck in what he considered forever.

Mumbling a curse, McCree carefully freed himself from the embrace, breaking his heart a little in the process, and hurried to the bathroom for a well-deserved _shower_. Though what he really wanted was to go back to bed and pretend to be asleep, elongating the precious moment as much as possible.

Hanzo had a rough night, one filled with nightmares and unsettled dragons until he found peace in the body next to him. One he shamelessly clung into for the rest of the night until McCree politely freed himself without embarrassing him in the morning and there he was, tying his hair up in a bun to meet his brother for breakfast, running away from the room before the cowboy came out of the shower.

Genji portrayed a sly smile Hanzo did not miss when he was approaching him. He positively knew he had seen them snuggling because when he had woken up his bed was neatly made and Genji nowhere to be seen.

“Since when are you an early bird, Genji?” Hanzo asked, a cup of coffee waiting for him at the table. The resort was more than comfortable, and his interior terrace provided a wonderful place to read a newspaper, relax and enjoy a breakfast between cacti and the sea breeze. If not for the hustle last night this could have passed for a sweet vacation.

“I did not want to wake you guys up,” Genji said, smirking and finishing his orange juice. “You seemed comfortable.” Hanzo rolled his eyes but ignored his brother’s comment. It was not his fault they had to share a bed. Genji chuckled, amused. In fact, it was Genji’s fault.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Hanzo said. “Last night, when McCree stopped the vehicle risking his life. Is he always like this?” Genji sighed, understanding perfectly what his brother meant. He knew Jesse long enough to pretend.

“If there is a bullet between Jesse and his target,” Genji sighed. “He will get shot gladly.”

“I see,” Hanzo said, sipping his coffee. “Reckless.”

“Trouble finds him, and he finds trouble,” Genji said.

“How is he still alive?” Hanzo arched an eyebrow at him.

“McCree excels at everything he does,” Genji said. “Have a little faith. By the way,” the ninja dropped casually as though he hadn’t that question prepared since Hanzo sat at the table. “How was your date the other night?”

“What date?” Hanzo feigned.

“Come on, brother.” Genji had seen the underlying truth this morning cuddling in their sleep.

“That was not a date. We were working,” Hanzo said, scowling at him.

Genji stared at Hanzo, just like when they were kids, keeping his gaze on him until Hanzo surrendered to the warmth on his cheeks and fought to avoid his piercing look, slowly yielding, losing his determination into his little brother’s smug smile until he confessed all his crimes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Hanzo cursed. “It went great, he is a very interesting man,” Hanzo said, sipping his coffee as though nothing could break his resolve, determined to end his brother’s snoopiness in a heartbeat forever.

“Who do I have to kill?” McCree said, taking a nearby chair and sitting at the table with a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Hanzo choked on his coffee, struggling to contain a sudden coughing fit. “Woah, easy there, darlin’.”

The cowboy chuckled, offering his glass of water to Hanzo, who drank from it, red as an apple. Genji used all his strength not to burst into laughter and changed the subject instead, taking pity on his older brother, but he secretly put his evil mind to work.

“The girl from last night is the daughter of the baker,” Genji said, grabbing the attention of the table. “I followed her to Las Nieblas.”

“I know the place,” McCree said with a mouth full. He swallowed. “Maybe I should try to find out what happened discreetly, ya’ know?”

“So we don’t scare the little girl or the mother, I agree,” Genji said.

Hanzo remained silent, mostly embarrassed for his behavior last night, though, to be fair, he could not control where to crawl in his sleep, and he was still unsettled about McCree’s heedless actions, not because he was anyone to judge him or his methods, but because at that moment, he realized he _cared_ about McCree. The archer didn’t even consider his own safety, the only thing on his mind was to make sure the cowboy was unharmed.

“Hanzo?” Genji said, bringing him back to reality.

“Yes, sorry,” he said, finishing his coffee.

“I was saying I informed Winston first thing in the morning and he wants us to come back as soon as possible. He is sending the ORCA to pick us up and it should arrive later tonight,” Genji explained.

“Hm,” Hanzo said. “Convenient.” He was definitely not in the mood for a regular flight.

“The news is already blaming the whole thing on Los Muertos and the mysterious soldier so we’re off the hook on this one,” Genji said.

“Winston will be as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine ‘bout that,” McCree said chuckling and wolfing the food in front of him.

 

McCree headed to the bakery on his own while Genji and Hanzo waited for him in a nearby cantina, the ship ETA would be well into the night and they will have to go to the landing area by car. He couldn’t wait to come back to the base and share the news with Winston and the others.

Apparently, the infamous Soldier 76 had saved the girl’s life while he was trying to stop the criminals as a warning, to make sure they understood the streets were no longer theirs. Alejandra had been more than willing to talk about the _hero_ that had saved her, she even identified him as one of those heroes that were no longer around, to McCree’s surprise.

Her mother didn’t give her much credit, though, diminishing her daughter's testimony, but McCree recognized the truth in the eyes of the girl. Winston will not believe the testimony of a teenager either, but McCree had a hunch and his cowboy gut had never failed him.

Something the girl had said, quoting the words from the mysterious man: “Old habits die hard.” He had heard that before, in Blackwatch. What the girl described and what Genji saw, a soldier way too fast, too strong, an impressive aim, acquainted with the military protocol. Oddly familiar. McCree had a terrible feeling about it and he cursed having missed a face to face with the guy.

The cowboy entered the bar and found Hanzo at the counter nursing a half drank beer in his hand. He walked towards him slowly. He liked to watch him when Hanzo wasn’t paying attention when he was lost doing something else, reading, training, the archer seemed to control everything about his exterior when he was around people but when he was alone, you could see who he really was.

“Howdy, Genji?” he said, taking a seat next to him and ordering a beer with a quick signal to the waiter.

“He went to get the car, he will be here any minute now,” Hanzo said, glancing at McCree with a serious expression on his face.

“Still mad at me?” McCree said, sipping his beer while Hanzo sighed.

“I am not mad at you,” Hanzo said. He was uncomfortable at having reacted like that the other night. He had no right to question McCree’s ability or how he wanted to do things. And he had snuggled with him this morning and he was ashamed of that too.

“I would endanger no one, ya’ know,” the cowboy explained.

“Except for you, Jesse.” Hanzo turned to look at McCree, and the corner of his eyes crinkled when he noticed the shy blush on his face and the half-smile brightening up his face.

“I got you buñuelos to make up for my recklessness,” McCree shyly said, rubbing the back of his neck and placing a little paper bag soaked in grease next to Hanzo who smiled and rushed to grab one.

“Nice move,” Hanzo said and McCree chuckled. “Do you think we accomplished something here?”

“Los Muertos will think about it twice before pullin’ an operation like that again, and we’ll keep an eye on them.” McCree sighed, relieved at the smile on Hanzo’s lips, also covered by a subtle layer of sugar. “This place has suffered enough, first with the war and now with the gangs and a corrupt government.”

“Seems like the world is in need of justice,” Hanzo said, licking his lips and grabbing another sweet.

“An’ it ain’t gonna dispense itself,” McCree said, dusting with his thumb the sugar gathered in the corner of his mouth. Hanzo froze, and the cowboy realized what he had done a little too late, so he cleared his throat, wished for a hole to hide, and dusted the sugar while Hanzo’s lip twitched into a mischievous smile. “We will be home soon, can’t wait to sleep on my bed,” McCree said, and then realized it was a fat ass lie. A fat ass lie that had escaped his mouth without thinking twice.

“I am sorry if I was an unpleasant partner,” Hanzo replied, a little hurt by the cowboy’s words, finishing his beer with renewed thirst.

_Damn._

“I was talkin’ ‘bout the bed, not ya’,” McCree said, trying to fix his big mouth's mess. “I’d have ya’ in my bed anytime, sweetheart.” Hanzo snorted and shook his head at the cowboy’s flirting.

Home had said McCree. The Overwatch members, including his brother, considered the organization something close to their home; they were a family, one he would want to belong one day. Hanzo remembered when they were young when he was the older brother and took care of Genji who followed him around all day. They had a home and a family once.

“I miss my home. A place to call home, I guess I have been a lone wolf for too long,” Hanzo said, his gloomy mood winning the battle this time.

“What is home to you?” McCree asked.

“A village, high atop a hill. There are cherry blossoms in the spring. I miss it dearly,” Hanzo had a sad smile. That feeling you get when you remember something far away from your childhood, an undeniable nostalgia.

“I reckon ya’ are talkin’ about the past,” McCree said, knowing too well what Hanzo was thinking that it clenched his stomach and made his heart ache. He had missed the farm, his parents, the boring life he once thought it wasn’t worth living. How different would be everything if he had never left?

“I do not have a home. Not anymore,” Hanzo sighed.

“You’ll find your home, Hanzo, ya’ got Genji now,” McCree tried to cheer him. “Ya’ got me.” Hanzo glanced at him, eyes fluttering with melancholy. It broke McCree’s heart just to think how lonely might Hanzo had felt these past years. “I ain’t used to people, ya’ know, _caring_.”

“That makes two of us,” Hanzo said, a soft chuckle easing the gloomy atmosphere.

“I’ll make ya’ get used to it,” McCree bragged, making Hanzo laugh adorably. His world once again was worth living thanks to him and that laugh.

Genji studied them from a distance outside the bar, not wanting to interrupt, he would love to let them talk longer, judging by the smile on Hanzo’s face and the blush on McCree’s cheeks. He had never seen his friend or his brother like this before, and he couldn’t repress a knowing smile at the two fools, so unaware of the chemistry bursting between them, the untold words, the body language so obvious from a distance, but they had a long travel ahead to Gibraltar, and Genji was eager to see Angela again, decided to tell her how much he cared for her, determined to show her with everything he got. And also determined to make these two fools realize what they had right in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short thing to wrap things up in Dorado and we're back to Gibraltar <3 There is some light angst and fluff coming.... just saying... <3


	12. Cowboy Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has a much-needed conversation and McCree has the bad habit to smoke right when he wakes up.

_Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar, 2076_

“We cannot take for granted the testimony of a child, McCree,” Winston said.

They had arrived at the base early that morning, weariness settling in the three of them, the ORCA wasn’t the most comfortable transport, but Winston insisted in a debriefing in the evening after they had some hours of sleep. Not nearly enough.

McCree let out an exasperated gasp, he knew Soldier 76 was too familiar to be just a regular guy with a sense of justice. “I’m tellin’ ya’, that’s the tip of the iceberg.”

“He was too fast and well trained,” Genji said. Confused by the explosion he had lost Soldier 76. He chose to follow the girl home and make sure she arrived safely.

“And we will try to find out more about him, but now that we know he is not a direct threat we have more urgent matters in hand,” the scientist said.

The debriefing with Winston went right how McCree had expected, and even if it bothered him he was right, they couldn’t waste more time pursuing someone that didn’t want to be found. They will have to sit and wait, and he wasn’t much for waiting around.

“There is something else,” Winston said. “Regarding the information we got from an anonymous informant,” McCree rolled his eyes. “We believe Talon is after Akande Ogundimu.”

“Doomfist? They want him back?” Genji said, familiar with the background of the past Talon operative, as he had played a part sending him to jail along with Winston and Tracer back in the old Overwatch days.

“We don’t know yet,” Winston said, and McCree clicked his tongue. If Sombra had told him Talon was after Doomfist they were, and they would get his operative back sooner rather than later.

“But he is currently held in a maximum security facility,” Hanzo said. “Will they try to break him free?”

“Unlikely,” Winston frowned. “But we will warn Helix Security International accordingly.”

“Another thin’ we just gonna sit and wait?” McCree said, the lack of sleep and the jet lag catching up with him.

“No, Lena and I will keep an eye on the Overwatch Museum in the meantime for any suspicious activity,” Winston explained.

“Museum?” Hanzo scowled.

“Doomfist gauntlet is stored and displayed there,” McCree added, arching an eyebrow and following Hanzo’s track of thought.

“The real one?” Hanzo asked, surprised at the lack of common sense, though the current members of Overwatch had no saying on it, whoever decided to keep a weapon like that in a low-security place such as a museum was plainly stupid.

“Yes,” Winston said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “If it were for me, I’d bury it deep down so it would never be found. It is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands… or arm, for this matter.”

“I’d look mighty fine with it, don’t ya’ think?” McCree said, wiggling his eyebrows, and Genji and Hanzo chuckled. They were all too tired and jet-lagged to make sense of anything today.

“If you want two right hands,” Winston rolled his eyes. “I need to calibrate Lena’s chronal accelerator so we can call off the meeting. Thank you all.”

“I need a nap, or two,” McCree complained, yawning and stretching his back.

Hanzo smiled at the lazy noises coming out from McCree while he kept complaining at how tired he was on their way to their rooms. Genji excused himself poorly and hurried to find Angela while he and McCree said good night awkwardly  at the doorstep of Hanzo’s room and then the loneliness came back.

Hanzo undressed and fell on the bed too tired not even his rambling mind prevented him from falling asleep in an instant. He didn’t want to admit it but he missed a body beside him on the bed, the cowboy’s body, his warmth, the safety of knowing he was there; and Hanzo buried his face in the pillow, letting the slumber take over his wore out mind, thinking about the sleeping cowboy in the room nearby.

 

The dragons burned his skin, they went right through him again and again, tearing apart all the good things in his life, the joy, the happiness, the love he had, leaving a cold shivering heart behind. He couldn’t wash the blood from his hands, they were a bright, deep red and no matter how much he scrubbed his skin under the tap the blood stained the water. He was shaking, it wasn’t his blood, but it wouldn't go away, he couldn’t clean his hands until he realized the stream was a pouring pool of blood. Genji’s blood.

Hanzo woke up suddenly and sat on the bed, disoriented in the dark, sweating profusely and hardly breathing. He struggled to find the switch and turn the lights on, blinding himself momentarily, and panting nervously. Hanzo sank his head into his clumsy hands, shaking.

It had been a while since a recurrent nightmare had woken him up like this. Too many changes in his life, too many new feelings and emotions had overwhelmed him and this was the price. The price to pay for his past actions. He needed to get out of the room and the bed or it would drive him mad.

Hanzo put on his sweatpants and a hoodie and headed to the common room. The lights were dim and soft at night in the base, you could wander around enveloped by a gloomy atmosphere. He made himself a tea to have something warm to hold, a comforting ritual to calm himself down as he sat on the couch, his gaze lost in the coffee table in front of him, the noise of the ventilation too obvious in the silence of the night while he tried to bring his mind to the present.

“Hello there,” Angela said with a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Good night, Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo said, his voice husky.

“Care if I join you?” she said.

“Not at all.” He wasn’t expecting company but It would distract him from the void of darkness overwhelming him. Angela served a tea for herself and sat on the couch in front of him, tossing the data pads in her hands on the table and sighing.

“I need to catch up with work, I’ve been a little distracted lately,” she said, a shy smile betraying her and Hanzo chuckled softly, unable to help himself. “Oh, I know you know.” Angela blushed.

“Genji seems happy,” Hanzo said.

“He’s come a long way,” Angela said, sipping her tea and relaxing back on the couch. “Trouble sleeping, Mr. Shimada? Perhaps I could prescribe you something.”

“There is no need,” Hanzo waved a hand. “You may call me Hanzo.”

“Only if you call me Angela,” she said, smiling lovingly. The good doctor really had a charming smile, no wonder his brother had fallen for it like a fool. They were happy, both, and they deserved it, with all the things happening around the world we needed to hold onto the small things.

“May I ask you about Genji?” Hanzo knew his obvious sadness will give him away.

“About… his recovery?” Angela said. “Are you sure? You seem unsettled, maybe it is not the best time to have this conversation.”

“There will be never a proper time to have this conversation, I’m afraid,” Hanzo said. “How was him?”

Angela hesitated, doubtful for a moment, but Genji had given her permission to speak about his medical issues with Hanzo because he had told her Hanzo would ask her sooner than later, too afraid of asking Genji himself. And he has been right. Angela took a long deep breath and saw Hanzo’s eyes filled with worry and regret.

“The team found him right after it happened, I was stationed somewhere else but I’ve read the reports. The illegal activities of the Shimada clan were well known by Overwatch.”

“My memories of it are blurry, I remember Genji bleeding in my arms, dying, and the next thing I remember is the darkness of the streets, the rain pouring heavily and washing the blood on my hands,” Hanzo said. His hand hurt, and he realized he was wrapping them in a fist too forcefully.

“Genji was barely alive, but he never died, though some of his wounds were irreversible,” Angela leaned forward, afraid of the information she was dropping on Hanzo. “The team put him in a hibernation tank and moved him to the Overwatch Headquarters in Zurich where I worked.

“And Genji was still alive?” Hanzo had thought all these years that he had left the lifeless body of his brother abandoned in the middle of the hall in Hanamura; and he was still alive, he could have asked for help, take him to a hospital, and he ran away.

“Yes, my expertise on nanobiology made me the perfect choice to treat him, my specialty is life-threatening illnesses and, well, Genji’s injuries were severe,” Angela said, using all the fortitude her profession granted her to explain something so intense so clearly, not tinted with emotions.

“I could never thank you enough for saving his life,” Hanzo said.

“There’s no need, I was doing my job at the time and I am very good at it,” she explained.

Hanzo ran his hands through his hair, processing the new information about his brother, still trying to find a reason for his actions, a valid reason, but he realized there was none. There will never be.

“You were both so young,” Angela said. “I can’t imagine what you two have gone through.”

“I should have protected us both,” Hanzo gasped, holding back the tears he wouldn’t shed. “I was the older brother.”

“You still are, you can’t punish yourself forever, and believe me, I’ve hated you for so long that I am impressed at my own words,” Dr. Ziegler honestly said.

“I’ve hated myself for so long too. I still do.”

“Genji asked for you when he woke up,” Angela said. Hanzo’s stomach clenched, and the vile came up his throat at the words. After all this time, it hurt just the same. A friendly hand rubbed his knee and brought him to the present. “We healed him, we patched him up, and he is here with us today.”

“And I will be forever in your debt.” Not even a hundred apologies would ease his pain.

“I never left his side,” Angela said, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. “He was young and strong, and he recovered to be the impressive man he is now. He swallowed his rage and his defeat and kept fighting.”

“Genji was always the brave one, ready to fight for his beliefs, not like me, a puppet,” Hanzo swallowed, angry at his father, his family, the clan. The Shimada name was a curse.

“Genji was determined to fight the clan not only for him but for you too and the damage they had done to both of you, he never blamed you for your actions,” Angela said, trying to comfort Hanzo repeating the words Genji had said to her many times.

“But I am the one to blame,” Hanzo sighed.

“That is something you will have to sort out with Genji,” Dr. Ziegler said, squeezing his knee and sighing.

“My brother is very lucky to have you, Angela,” Hanzo said, meeting her gaze and bringing the smile back to her face.

“I am lucky to have him, always been,” she confessed. Angela Ziegler loved his brother more than Genji probably knew.

“I have realized this place is like a home, and you all are like a family together,” Hanzo said.

“I lost my parents in the war, most Overwatch members are family to me, I miss Reinhardt and Torbjorn dearly, and I hope they will join us soon,” Angela said, feeling suddenly homesick. “And I miss the ones that are not among us too.”

“It is a privilege to be a part of this, more than I could have anticipated.”

“We’re friendly most of the time,” Angela joked.

Hanzo stood, ready to get a much-needed sleep, but seriously doubting he would achieve it. His mind was still trying to go over his brother’s recovery and he was lost again in the despair that had ruled his life the past ten years. The dragons knew it and echoed his thoughts loudly.

“Thank you again, Angela,” Hanzo said, and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

“I’ll enjoy the quiet while it lasts, this reports won’t read themselves,” she said, picking a data pad and nursing the cup of tea.

On his way upstairs Hanzo dreaded the moment he entered his room, pondering if he should just start his day early and train, exhausted as he was, because sleep won’t catch up with him. When he was opening the door of his room, the adjacent door opened too, and a sleepy cowboy with a smoke in his mouth and hooded lids came outside with a grunt, stopping stock still at his presence.

“Howdy,” McCree said surprised to find him there and frowning when he saw Hanzo’s stern face and watery red eyes. “Ya’ alright?”

“Yes,” Hanzo lied, holding the doorknob in his hand with a little too much strength.

“No, ya’ ain't,” McCree said, getting closer to him and keeping the cigarette behind his ear. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I…” Hanzo babbled, his voice betraying him, cracking at the cowboy’s presence and the warmth of his voice. McCree cupped Hanzo’s face, nestling his cheek in the palm of his hand, the rough skin was gentle and soft and the archer tried not to make a fool of himself at the battle fighting in his chest.

“C’mere,” McCree whispered, pulling Hanzo into an unexpected hug that tore down the last walls of his resolve and his façade. A gasp left his lungs, and he sank himself into the depths of the cowboy’s embrace, his face hidden embarrassed on the hollow of his neck. Hanzo nuzzled there and relished in the smell of sweat and tobacco of the cowboy, a mix he felt surprisingly familiar by now, soothing and calming.

His hands fisted McCree’s shirt at his back while he held him tight. Jesse wouldn’t let him fall, wouldn’t judge him. Hanzo knew. And yet he felt ashamed of the weakness he was showing. A hand rubbed his back lovingly, and he melted into his touch. Hanzo hadn’t realized how much he needed this until Jesse gave it to him. It ended too soon, he stupidly pulled back and cleared his throat, he had managed not to shed any tear but he was barely holding it together.

“Better?” McCree said, smiling at him and Hanzo nodded, risking a glance at the cowboy’s eyes and finding nothing more than sweetness and tenderness. One he did not deserve. “Come sleep with me,” McCree said without thinking. “You’ll sleep better.”

“We can’t. I can’t,” Hanzo said, perplex at the offer that he wanted to agree to at once.

“It wouldn't be our first time,” McCree said, closing Hanzo’s door and gripping his wrist to drag him to his room before he could protest, the cigarette falling from his ear without him noticing, forgotten on the floor in front of Hanzo’s room.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, trying to find a valid argument to not snuggle against McCree for the rest of the night and probably most of the morning. He found none.

“I won’t try anythin’,” McCree teased, his hands in the air now in a sign of peace and a wolfish grin on his face too sexy to be intentional. “Cowboy promise.”

“Do not make me laugh when I am feeling miserable,” Hanzo said, chuckling and standing in the cowboy’s room, a soft light illuminating the mess inside, things and clothes spared on the floor, the desk was barely visible and nobody positively needed four bottles of water near the bed, two of them empty and abandoned.

“That’s exactly the point, darlin’, makin’ you laugh,” he said, taking off his shoes and lying on one side of the bed, patting the other invitingly. “Ya’ can leave if ya’ want.” McCree realized a little too late he was as reckless in the battlefield as he was flirting, but Hanzo took the hoodie off, smiling at McCree’s appreciation whistle and lay at his side with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I remember you said you missed your bed,” Hanzo inquired, still hurt by the cowboy’s words the other night. He turned off the light on the nightstand, the darkness now concealing his shyness and his naked torso. McCree lifted his right arm and Hanzo hesitated for half a second before rolling and nestling safely in the cowboy’s chest.

“I also remember saying I’d have ya’ in my bed anytime, sweet pie.” McCree’s arm fell over his shoulders and Hanzo snuggled up, letting a gentle hand comfort him.

“Sweetheart,” Hanzo mumbled, getting comfortable as an arm wrapped McCree’s waist and a leg tangled between the fuzzy legs of the cowboy.

“Ya’ say the nicest things to me,” McCree chuckled, adjusting himself to Hanzo’s tight embrace. Who would’ve thought Hanzo Shimada was the cuddly type?

“I mean you said sweetheart, not sweet pie,” Hanzo corrected and if he had the energy, he would’ve rolled his eyes, but he was already dozing.

“Both suit you well enough,” McCree said, his thumb tracing circles on Hanzo’s arm, giving him goosebumps.

“Will you let me sleep?” Hanzo said, yawning.

“I ain’t gonna lie, darlin’, I’d sure damn love to keep you awake the whole night,” McCree whispered in a husky voice that clenched Hanzo’s stomach in the most pleasurable way and clouded his mind, a voice full of lust and desire he wanted to surrender.

“You, shameless flirt,” Hanzo said, tightening the grip on his body and letting the cowboy take away all the bad memories and the despair he had felt before.

“Feelin’ better?” McCree whispered, his breath calmed, his heart steady and reassuring while Hanzo heard its strong beat. He hummed in the cowboy’s chest. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he hung onto the cowboy without a trace of shame or regret. There was no other place he wanted to be but there with him, listening to a sweet rustling of words coming out from his lips.

McCree fell asleep smiling, smelling sweet dreams in Hanzo’s hair, enjoying the heat of his body, wishing he had taken his own shirt off to feel his skin. He whispered sweet nothings to Hanzo until he surrendered to the weariness, fighting to stay awake, fearing it was all a dream, and McCree fell in love the way you fall asleep, slowly, and then all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” ( John Green, The Fault in Our Stars)
> 
> Next chapter: "Hanzo Shimada was a man with a plan, and his plan was to find McCree, suggest one of their nights drinking and watching stars, and approach him in a less subtle way."


	13. That day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you leaving comments and kudos around here!!! <3333

_Watchpoint : Gibraltar, 2076_

That morning was not as weird as Hanzo had expected, waking up with McCree by his side seemed natural, and he wouldn’t dare and lie to himself about how much he had enjoyed it. However, Hanzo left his bed before he would wake up, and they had not slept in the same bed since then. Neither of them asked again or look for the other, and they just fell back to their routine, waiting for the next assignment and looking for any silly excuse to spend time together, flirting shamelessly at any chance.

Though Hanzo missed the cowboy in the nights, tempted to knock on his door and sneak into his bed. He craved his touch, and he wasn’t sure why a fear had settled in his chest at the possibility of developing feelings for the cowboy. That was a lie. Hanzo had fallen for McCree and even if he tried to deny it, the way he looked at him, how he enjoyed his jokes, the blatant flirting, the soft caresses and touches that electrified his skin and sent shivers down his body; Hanzo liked every single bit of it.

He had to do something about it. Hanzo pondered his options: McCree was interested in him, at least in _sleeping_ with him; and even thinking about spending a night with that sinful sexy cowboy, finding out how he would be in bed, how he would touch him, and kiss him was too tempting. Hanzo had thought about it too many times this week. Too many that he felt again like a thirsty teenager yielding to his lust too often, fantasizing about him. That’s the effect the cowboy had on him, and his hands were not nearly enough to quench his appetite or the dragons.

But Hanzo Shimada was a man with a plan, and his plan was to find McCree, suggest one of their nights drinking and watching stars and approach him in a less subtle way. At this point,  the cowboy was an itch he needed to scratch because he was a thirty-eight-year-old man with a crush and too many needs the cowboy would fulfill. The only unforeseen circumstance was that he couldn’t find him anywhere on the base.

“Genji,” Hanzo said, tapping his shoulder when he found his brother at the back of the comm tower in his daily meditation. “Have you seen Jesse?” It was late in the evening already and no trace of the cowboy.

“Now you mention it, no, I haven’t,” Genji said, frowning, but then a sly smile crept on his face when he realized his brother had called McCree by his first name. “Have you finally accepted your shameful feelings, brother?”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Hanzo said, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t smile. After the two days in Dorado, he wouldn’t fool his little brother or himself any longer.

“Can’t believe I asked you two for advice when you cannot follow your own tips,” Genji chuckled, amused.

“I have everything under control,” Hanzo said. “I just need to find him.”

Genji furrowed and took his phone out, checking it as though he had suddenly remembered something important that had slipped his mind.

“ _Kuso_ , I forgot,” Genji sighed and grunted. “It is _that_ day.”

“What day?” Hanzo asked, sitting next to Genji.

“I’ve been too busy with Angela that I forgot completely about it,” Genji said, taking a deep breath. He glanced at Hanzo and saw the concern settling on his face. “For as long as I’ve known McCree he always disappears on the same day every year to get passed out drunk and pity himself.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Something about his family and his past,” Genji said and sighed.

“I see,” Hanzo hummed. “We all have burdens to dwell on.” Hanzo recalled McCree had told him about how he had left his parents when he was a teenager.

“When we were at Blackwatch, one night Commander Reyes dragged his drunk ass to our bunker,” Genji said, remembering how he had woken up and watched Gabriel taking care of McCree tenderly, as though he knew exactly what he was going through. “And he put him to bed instead of telling him off, he took pity on McCree.”

“I won’t find him today, then,” Hanzo sighed, suddenly worried about the cowboy, and a little disappointed at the change of plans.

“He’s probably at a roadside bar,” Genji said. “But from experience, today is better to leave him alone. He will be fine tomorrow, hungover dead but fine.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo said.

“Don’t worry,” Genji said, gripping Hanzo’s shoulder. “He’s a mess but he can take care of himself.”

“I will deny having said this but I care about him,” Hanzo confessed to his brother.

“I know,” Genji chuckled. “McCree’s a sappy cowboy, and you’re so into cowboys lately, brother.” Hanzo punched him in the shoulder, stealing a complaint from him but not stopping the teasing. “Is it the hat?”

This felt right, joking with Genji while he teased him about the guy he pined for and his obvious crush, but at the back of his mind he worried about McCree, and wanted to find him.

 

Hanzo had waited in the common room until wee hours, but he finally had gone to sleep, hoping to find McCree tomorrow. All the braveness from this morning was fading away, and he was having second thoughts about his plan, at least until he could check up on the cowboy. Maybe it was all a bad idea. They worked together now, they had to see each other every day and what if they slept together and then everything goes wrong and…

A blunt noise woke Hanzo from his rambling and he saw the bathroom lights on through the crack in the door. He sighed and smiled, at least McCree was in his room and not wandering around drunk. Another loud noise startled him and Hanzo sat on the bed, pricking up his ears. It sounded like a stampede had gone through the small space smashing things on its way.

Hanzo stood and knocked on the bathroom door. “McCree?” He said, but the only answer was a sorrow yelp. Genji had told him not to bother him today, that it was better if he was left alone, but the noises and whimpers did not stop. He heard the flush and knocked again. No answer. Hanzo hissed, exasperated.

Decided to put an end to this, Hanzo opened the door and cursed. McCree groaned, bent over the toilet and clearly inebriated while he tried to close the fly of his jeans with sloppy fingers, but quickly giving up and leaning back on the tiles. The cowboy sat on the floor and cleaned his mouth with the back of his arm, and then Hanzo noticed he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic. McCree hadn’t even seen Hanzo until he crouched down in front of him and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Hanzo stupidly asked, of course, he wasn’t okay.

“Leave me alone,” McCree babbled. He had been crying judging by the redness of his eyes and the wetness of his cheeks. He was a mess. A mess he wanted to take care of.

“I will,” Hanzo said, standing and dragging McCree up with him. Trying to lift a man six feet tall was a challenge, luckily, the cowboy cooperated enough and stood, leaning on the bathroom sink, but obviously dizzy and disoriented.

“I’ma gonna take a shower,” McCree said, dragging the words more than usual while trying unsuccessfully to unbutton his shirt single-handed, and tilting dangerously to a side while doing it. “Woah, damn,” he cursed.

“I agree, you reek,” Hanzo sighed.

Hanzo grabbed McCree’s hand stopping him, standing in front of him in the small bathroom. He moved it aside and unbuttoned the shirt, taking it off efficiently. The cowboy leaned forward and pressed his forehead to his shoulder while his hand gripped the sink behind him to steady himself.

“I’m a damn mess,” McCree murmured. “Ya’ don't have to, I can take care o’ myself.”

“I know,” Hanzo said, ignoring him and pulling the already unfastened jeans to his feet. “Hold onto my shoulder so you do not fall.” McCree obeyed, and Hanzo removed his boots and the jeans one leg after the other. Then he turned on the water in the shower and checked the temperature with his hand.

When he turned around, McCree was barely there, awake but gone, flushed by the alcohol. Hanzo wondered how many times the cowboy had gone through this alone, and he remembered his own nights looking for forgiveness at the bottom of a glass and finding loneliness and regret. He hadn’t had kind hands to put him back together again, he could do that for Jesse.

“Yer gonna see me naked,” Jesse childishly said, and Hanzo snorted, chuckling softly.

“You wouldn’t be the first man I see naked,” Hanzo said, sliding McCree’s boxers down in a single movement, trying desperately not to stare. He was invading his privacy enough.

“Last one then?” McCree teased.

“So you cannot walk but you can flirt,” Hanzo said, stealing a lazy chuckle from the cowboy.

Hanzo took Jesse’s right arm and wound it around his shoulders, grabbing his waist and motioning both inside the shower cabin. He was barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a shirt, so he tried to help McCree under the stream but the water unavoidably splashed around him.

It was a quick shower. The warm water washing away the sweat and the alcohol and bringing a little life into the cowboy. Hanzo stood firmly behind him, holding his waist from a distance until Jesse turned off the water.

“Stay there,” Hanzo said while he grabbed a towel and wrapped him with it, helping both out and into the cowboy’s room. He helped Jesse sit on the bed and looked around to guess where he would keep fresh clothes.

“First drawer,” Jesse murmured. Hanzo opened it and grabbed the first pair of boxers he found. He didn’t turn on the lights, so the room was partially illuminated only by the bathroom’s helping with the privacy. He gave McCree the underwear and entered the bathroom to get a glass of water.

When he came back, he noticed the mechanical arm tossed on the floor near the desk, and McCree had the underwear on but he hunched over his knees, his only arm covering his face. He looked worn out, and it broke Hanzo’s heart. The archer picked up the towel and dried the excess water from McCree’s hair, handing him the glass of water.

“Drink,” Hanzo ordered, and watched McCree with a face of disgust empty the glass quickly. “Now sleep.” He helped him lie down and covered him with the sheets. He looked so sad it broke his heart again, but at least McCree could take a proper sleep. Though the cowboy will regret this in the morning for sure.

Hanzo left the room and heard a thank you from the doorstep, he smiled, closing the door behind him to get to his own bed. His plan would have to wait, and he really wanted to know what had affected the cowboy that much to be so reckless with himself. Again.

Taking off the wet clothes, Hanzo slid into his bed, cold and, suddenly, too empty for his liking, but he faced the wall and took a deep breath. He had never felt like this for anyone in his life, he knew him for so little time and yet they had connected somehow, though the chances his feelings were only his own was high.

He sensed noises in the bathroom again and the cracking noise of his own door. Hanzo didn’t have to turn around to know it was him; he didn’t have to guess why he was there or why McCree was sneaking under the sheets behind him.

“Can I?” McCree whispered at his back.

“Stay,” Hanzo said and noticed the deep exhale from Jesse. “But come closer.”

McCree satisfied his request as though he had been granted a gift, burying his face in the hollow of his neck, pressing his trembling body on his back and sliding his right arm around Hanzo’s chest. Their bodies fit so perfectly it scared Hanzo, the fear crept up his heart that this was a mistake, that he was being careless and stupid wanting someone to _love_ him. Hanzo didn’t deserve love or happiness, and there he was, longing for it, wishing for it. He stiffened a gasp and snuggled back into McCree.

“M’sorry, Hanzo,” Jesse whispered, pressing his lips to the back of his neck and sending a thrill down his spine. A shy kiss the cowboy didn’t dare to give. Hanzo clasped his hand with McCree’s, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles and relishing in the soft snoring of the already sleeping cowboy. The dragons in his chest rumbled, awake and burning, reading his feelings, and soothing his mind like they had never done before. They liked Jesse.

 

McCree felt like a human waste when he woke up, his head was killing him, he was thirsty and flashes of last night assailed his mind mercilessly. Hanzo helping him undress, taking care of him, seeing him naked in a not flattering state. “Oh goddamnit,” McCree mumbled a curse and buried his face in Hanzo’s pillow to smell sweet dreams on it and hide his embarrassment.

Opening his eyes, he saw a glass of water on the nightstand and quickly drank from it, then he saw the painkillers next to it. He sat on the bed and opened the bottle with one hand holding it between his knees and took two with a pitiful groan. His arm was there too, lying on the desk, and McCree sighed. _He cares, he has to_ , he thought. _And I’m a wreck._

He sneaked outside Hanzo’s bedroom, checked there was no one around, and grabbed some food from the mess, greasy, satisfying comfort food, and disappeared again to sleep and doze dreaming about Hanzo, this time in his own bed. He was too ashamed and hungover to face the archer or anybody today.

But when McCree wasn’t sleepy anymore, and he had spent the past hour looking at the ceiling, a tinge of guilt struck him and he sent a message to Hanzo to meet outside in their drinking spot. He also answered Genji’s worried texts while he waited for an answer. He would have to explain and face what a fool he had been, always taking bad decisions in his life, always the wrong ones.

 _I’m already there, come_ , Hanzo answered and Jesse smiled, jumping off the bed.

“Howdy, darlin’,” McCree said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Hello,” Hanzo said, glancing up at the cowboy. McCree sat next to him, close enough that their arms touched and it gave him goosebumps. “How are you?”

“Thank you for yesterday,” McCree said, sighing, trying to find the strength to open his heart to Hanzo. “I owe you an explanation.”

“You do not, Jesse, but I am here,” Hanzo said, turning his head to look at him. The cowboy fixed his gaze in the evening horizon, the sun low and orange brightening his whiskey-colored eyes.

“I left my home when I was fifteen, I remember because it was my ma’s birthday and it annoyed me that I had to stay with them for dinner. What a damn fool,” McCree said, his voice cracking at the memory.

“We do stupid things when we are young,” Hanzo said, knowing this might be hard for McCree, as it was hard for him to speak about his past.

“I left a week after that and joined the gang I had been fooling around with for a couple of months. I just packed my things and never looked back, didn't leave a note or anythin’ I just left,” McCree gasped, tilting his head back until it hit the wall behind him and he closed his eyes, repressing the tears.

Hanzo placed a hand on McCree’s knee and rubbed it tenderly, he wanted to let him know he was there for him no matter what, that he could rely on him.

“I regretted my choice years after that when I was recruited in Blackwatch, but I never found the strength to come back and apologize,” McCree continued. “When I wanted to make amends, it was already too late.”

“I am sorry, Jesse,” Hanzo said, knowing his parents were no longer alive. McCree was alone in the world and had been for many years now. Just like he had been until he found Genji again.

“They died,” the cowboy sighed. “And I’m a bastard.”

“You are not,” Hanzo said. “You are one of the kindest people I know, you are a good man, Jesse McCree, and we acquire the strength we have overcome.”

“I’m alright, I grieve for them every year and ask for forgiveness to any god out there,” McCree said, resting his hand on Hanzo’s. The archer didn’t flinch away, and it made his lip twitch into a half-smile. It surprised him how much he craved for his touch since they came back from Dorado since all he wanted at night in his bed was the archer’s body against him.

“I have lived a similar nightmare for the past ten years, I can relate,” Hanzo said. “I do not know if I will ever forgive myself,” Hanzo said, turning his hand around to tangle his fingers with Jesse’s. He blushed, he needed a touch he hadn’t need in his life.

“Seems we will have to forgive ourselves, darlin’,” McCree said, squeezing his hand. He couldn’t hide it anymore, it was so obvious he cared about Hanzo it seemed stupid he hadn’t had the courage to say the truest words that will ever leave his mouth.

And they stared at their joined hands while a comforting breeze brushed away their worries and soothed their hearts because they could never change their past but the future belonged to them and only them.

“Darlin’, I…” McCree babbled when an annoying beep interrupted him. And then Hanzo’s phone beeped in unison and they awkwardly let go of their hands. Hanzo cursed in Japanese, and Jesse chuckled nervously.

“Winston,” Hanzo said, disappointed at the interruption.

“It better be an emergency or I’ma gonna kill someone,” McCree said, standing up and helping Hanzo. They both chuckled awkwardly and headed to Winston’s office swiftly, expecting an update on the situation in London. Winston and Lena were discussing something over the screens and turned around when he and Hanzo entered.

“Glad to see you among the living, McCree,” Winston said, but not in a wry tone. His friends cared about him, so he tilted his head as a greeting.

“Ya’ know me,” McCree said, rubbing the back of his neck. Lena came closer and punched him in the shoulder, narrowing his eyes, trying to stay angry at him but then smiled. Mercy and Genji entered the room, and Genji squeezed his shoulder on his way in.

“Now that we are all here,” Winston said. “We have received a message from Watchpoint: Antarctica. The station answered the recall.”

“I thought all Ecopoints were dismantled,” Angela said, leaning on the desk.

“This location was hit by a polar storm that damaged the facility so it already appeared shut down to us, Athena has gathered the information contained in the message along with a lot of data and an emergency call we never answered,” Winston explained, sighing in disappointment at how this could slip Overwatch even in the chaos of the downfall.

“How come?” Genji said, frowning.

“The storm cut off the communications, and we had no way of knowing,” Lena explained. “According to Athena, the scientists hoped the emergency call would eventually reach the Overwatch emergency frequencies, but they were shut down shortly after we disbanded and…” Lena sighed.

“An’ we abandoned them?” McCree finished for her, surprise all over his face at the graveness of the situation. They always claimed not to leave anyone behind and yet when everything went to hell they left a lot of people behind. A gloomy silence filled the room at McCree’s words, everyone was thinking about those last months, the downfall, the secrets and lies among the organization, and more importantly, the mistakes they did not want to make again.

“They followed the protocol and entered cryostasis as soon as the supplies were running low,” Winston spoke again. “Waiting for the storm to calm down wasn’t an option, but the communications never went online, the message was never sent, and they have remained there…”

“Ten years!” Angela gasped, covering her mouth with his hand.

“That’s what the logbook included in the message said,” Lena sighed again, fidgeting nervously with her hands.

“As far as we know, the climatologist Mei-Ling Zhou was stationed there and has tried to contact us from several locations in the area, or at least someone who identifies as her because we can’t possibly know, and there is no trace of any other survivors,” Winston said, now prowling nervously around the room. He always hated dropping bad news on people.

“We have to get her back,” Lena said, determination filling her words.

“First we need to triangulate her position because the GPS signal is too weak, and we lose connection before establishing a clean channel, unable to register more than her coordinates,” Winston said, fixing the position of his glasses.

“The Antarctic is a hostile environment, we have little time,” Angela said, worried.

“If you all agree, when we know where to look for her, Overwatch will send the ORCA and a skeleton crew to get her back to Gibraltar,” Winston looked at the small crowd in front of him and they nodded. Seemed like the right thing to do.

“Why is she contacting us now?” Genji asked, his arms folded across his chest.

“When I initiated the recall Athena connected the Overwatch emergency frequencies, if we hadn’t call she would still be trapped there,” Winston answered.

“I’d like to go with the rescue team, Winston, in case there are injured,” Dr. Ziegler said, decided to go even before the scientist nodded at her in approval.

“I would like to help with the calculations,” Hanzo said. “I am familiar with the procedure, simple geometry.” McCree unavoidably smiled at how Hanzo had accepted himself as a member of Overwatch every passing day.

“A much-needed help,” Winston said, signaling Hanzo to come closer to the monitors. “Athena will be helpful too, but we have to scan the area for connection attempts from, _hm_ , codename _Snowball_ , apparently.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Lena said, wanting to help too.

“Wait and hope for the best, I’ll keep you all updated,” Winston assured, dismissing subtly the reunion so they could start working.

It would be a long night, longer than Hanzo had expected, but they finally closed the net around her position, where they could send a team and, very early in the morning, the ORCA left with Dr. Ziegler and the crew. It felt good to help and work as a team, but it will feel even better to rescue Mei, even if it was nine years too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:
> 
> “Winston kept ya’ awake all night, sweetheart?” McCree asked, keeping an eye on Hanzo and trying not to get his ass on the floor again.  
> “Tired and all, you are no match, cowboy,” Hanzo teased.


	14. The outcome was never in doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo goes through with his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW as in very NSFW (Check the tags again if you don't want surprises <3)

_Watchpoint : Gibraltar, 2076_

“Winston kept ya’ awake all night, sweetheart?” McCree asked, keeping an eye on Hanzo and trying not to get his ass on the floor again.

“Tired and all, you are no match, cowboy,” Hanzo teased.

The ORCA had left early that morning, and Hanzo had little sleep after a night calculating Mei’s position with Winston and occasional visits from Lena, coffeepot in hand; but at these hours they had confirmed contact with the climatologist and they quickly worked out a route to withdraw her safely from the Antarctic.

That meant the plan was on again, and Hanzo wouldn’t let McCree escape this time, but he suspected the cowboy was exactly where he wanted: under his mercy, but in the training room, learning aikido moves.

McCree had no interest in martial arts whatsoever, he liked a bitter row, but he was enjoying dearly the close contact of the sport. So when Hanzo gripped his wrist again and twisted it in an impossible angle, he forgot his own name and fell on his knees.

“Do as I told you or you will get hurt,” Hanzo instructed, loosening his grip.

“What’s the point of knowing yer gonna attack me and how to fall?” McCree chuckled. “That’s not how a real fight works, sugar.”

“Because that is exactly the point in aikido,” Hanzo said, releasing his arm and helping him up. “Now you are the attacker, remember the move I taught you.”

That was a hard request when all McCree could think about was the tightness of Hanzo’s shirt, the ink showing beautifully on his white skin and the glances he risked at the bulge on his groin. This man would be the death of him. He clicked his tongue and do as said, unable to repress the wolfish grin on his face.

Hanzo was kind enough not to dodge his sloppy movement and letting McCree grasp his wrist and elbow, pulling down while Hanzo used the leverage to roll over gracefully in a somersault.

“Again,” Hanzo said. “This time do not release the grip and follow my movement.” He instructed.

Hanzo was a patient man, McCree had to give him that, and he was enjoying sharing this with him though it had nothing to do with what he and Genji had practiced the other day. This looked innocent, and McCree wasn’t into innocent. He nodded at Hanzo while a mischievous smile crept up his face, decided to spice things up. McCree did as he was told and followed Hanzo’s movement until he knelt on the floor next to Hanzo who fell face down immobilized.

“Well done,” Hanzo said, a little breathless by the tight grip of his arm at his back, bent at an angle that wouldn’t let him stand up. He tapped the floor with the other hand and waited for McCree to release him but he didn’t. “McCree?”

The evil laugh that followed his words clenched his stomach, but Hanzo knew better than to move like this. Instead, he yielded to McCree’s grip and relaxed, but a gasp left his lungs when the cowboy straddled him and his weight trapped him against the floor.

“I play dirty, sugar, ya’ should’ve known,” McCree said, loosening the restraint on Hanzo’s arm and securing it on the floor near his shoulder, his big callous hand pressing his wrist to the floor too. Hanzo smirked, if the cowboy thought he was defenseless he had really made an error in judgment.

“And now what, cowboy?”

McCree hadn’t thought that far ahead, as usual, and he hesitated for a moment, realizing he was breathing faster and suddenly lightheaded. He leaned forward, his mechanical arm on the floor next to Hanzo’s waist while the other was clumsy and sweaty at the contact with the heated skin from the archer.

“Now I have ya’ where I want, darlin’,” he whispered near his ear and smiled when Hanzo tried to turn around his head and he saw the corner of his lip twitch up into a smile. McCree hummed and nuzzled at the back of his nape, the little hairs of his undercut teasing his nose and lips. Hanzo writhed under him and the soft caresses of the cowboy’s nose stole a moan that McCree drank up as a thirsty man.

“Jesse…” Hanzo purred, baiting him, and smiled when he heard a grunt from the cowboy who pressed his forehead on his shoulder and loosened the grip on his wrist. But then Hanzo felt the pressure of McCree’s hard length on the small of his back and he almost lost his resolve, wanting nothing more than to surrender to him, to let that man do whatever he wanted to him.

But he was proud, and winning was a temptation, so he took advantage of McCree, distracted as he was, and turned around, grasping swiftly McCree’s left arm and squirming free of his hold. The cowboy only had time to groan when his back hit the floor and Hanzo turned things around, straddling him with a smug smile on his face.

McCree was blushing, tender hooded eyes looking at him from below while Hanzo’s forearm rested under his chin, securing his position even if McCree’s hands lay free at both sides of his head.

“Ya’ got me distracted, sweetheart,” McCree said, struggling to speak with an arm on his throat. Hanzo leaned forward, his arm resting next to McCree’s head now while his other hand cupped his face and traced the outline of his jaw.

“That was too easy,” Hanzo bragged, inspecting McCree’s lips, wondering how would they taste and noticing the close contact of their bodies. Hanzo was not the only one excited about it.

McCree’s cock was hard under Hanzo’s weight, and the cowboy blushed and cursed at the clothes between them, but the swell on Hanzo’s sweatpants was no secret either, as a quick glance there proved and a knowing smile crept up his face. He relished in the soft blush of Hanzo’s cheeks while his hand bravely removed the tie to free his onyx hair in a single movement. Strands of hair washed Hanzo’s face and tickled him.

“I did not peg you for a coward, Jesse,” Hanzo said, impatience tinging his words. Wanting the mouth at his reach badly. Hanzo gasped when McCree’s hands shamelessly kneaded his thighs all the way until they grasped his ass greedily, bringing him down to him and to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Give me some sugar, darlin’,” the cowboy whispered into his mouth, lifting his head until he was an inch away from the lips he wanted to feast on for the rest of his life. Because McCree knew he wanted that hair to tickle his face every day, that warm breath near his mouth to feed his lungs, and that sweet wail of want to fill his ears.

And with a moan, Hanzo trapped his lips into his, brushing gently first, teasing, until McCree growled for more, clawing his fingers on his backside demandingly. And yet he let Hanzo kiss him, he let Hanzo draw the outline of his lips with a teasing tongue, closing his eyes, and opening his mouth willingly, and Hanzo fed his needs with a starving kiss.

Both his arms bracketed McCree’s head and pushed him down while Hanzo assailed his mouth with an eager tongue that found its perfect companion there, greeting each other with need until the cowboy deepened the kiss, a soft loving hand securing the back of Hanzo’s neck to pull him down while a mechanical one sneaked inside his sweatpants.

The cold of the metal felt strange, but the gentle circles of the fingers and the intensity of the grip was McCree’s doing. Hanzo rut against him, against the hard length of McCree, begging for a stroke himself. The kiss left them breathless, panting until the cowboy trapped his lower lip between his own and sucked for a brief moment before stroking again with his tongue, teasing, a telltale of what he wanted.

“My room, now, Jesse,” Hanzo ordered, standing, too aware of the tent in his pants and gasping at the one on McCree’s. _That_ was something else.

“Thank god, it was that, or I’d come in my pants,” McCree said, chuckling and taking Hanzo’s hand to stand up. “C’mere,” he whispered, longing for another kiss, already missing his lips and his touch, thrusting his tongue in Hanzo’s mouth and stealing a wail of surprise, sizzling at how the archer yielded to him so easily.

“My room!” Hanzo said, breaking the kiss and panting into his mouth, smiling at the stupid grin on the cowboy’s face and those eyes glittering with lust.

They were lucky not to bump into anyone on their way back because the cowboy was teasing all the way, stealing a kiss whenever he could, an inappropriate knead on his ass that Hanzo loved to bits or dirty words that escaped his mouth with an easiness that made him want to roll his eyes and moan at the same time.

But then they were alone in the safety of his room, and Hanzo pushed McCree against the door, pressing his body into his so he could sense the hard cock yearning for him rutting against his thigh. And McCree had to repress a moan with a bite on his neck. A bite so harsh and loving at the same time that rocked Hanzo’s world, a pleasurable pain he couldn’t wait to knuckle under.

McCree helped him get rid of his shirt, a predatory look in his eyes, the lasciviousness of his tongue as he wet his lips while his eyes roamed over Hanzo’s chest as though he wanted to eat him up. Hanzo closed the distance again meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile and teasing at the waistband of his sweatpants with deft fingers, he felt how McCree cursed and tensed his muscles.

“Will you let me do what I want?” Hanzo whispered, and McCree nodded.

Hanzo palmed Jesse’s length over the thick fabric of his sweatpants and hummed in appreciation at how hard he was, how big he was, and how badly he wanted him. He licked McCree’s lips lasciviously while a naughty hand slid inside his briefs to wrap itself tightly around his girth.

“Oh damn, Hanzo,” McCree gasped, trying to hold onto the doorknob in case his wobbly legs failed him.

The archer nuzzled on the hollow of his neck, inhaling the musky scent of the cowboy, peppering kisses on his skin while he stroked him at a leisurely pace, the waistband limiting his movements. He pressed his tongue into the pulsing vein at his reach, feeling the peaking heartbeat of a man soon to come undone in his hands and mouth.

Hanzo nibbled his way to his throat, placing a soft gentle kiss on his Adam's apple and then standing on his tiptoes to kiss his swollen lips, parted lips that failed to articulate the words when McCree tried.

The archer swooped down the sweatpants and boxers, freeing McCree’s thick cock in the air and kneeling in front of him, the floor was hard and cold but he didn’t care. Biting his lip, Hanzo risked a glance up and met the cowboy’s gaze, full of unbridled want while his hands ran up his thighs.

“Big, huh?” McCree bragged, swiftly taking his shirt off and discarding it in a bundle on the far side of the room, before looking back at Hanzo’s flushed face. “Ya’ look so good on your knees, sweetheart.”

“Hardly a challenge, cowboy,” Hanzo said, and enjoyed a bit too much the soft grunt that left McCree’s lips when his warm breath reached his sensitive skin. “And I couldn’t wait to get on my knees for you,” Hanzo moaned every word knowing he would drive McCree mad with desire. And he did.

His left hand gripped the hilt, and the cowboy shuddered while the right traced circles with his thumb near the hipbone. Hanzo opened his mouth and let his tongue out lasciviously slow, placing the head of McCree’s cock on it. A strand of hair got in the way and McCree’s right hand hurried to move it away and tucked it behind Hanzo’s ear.

“That’s a show I don't wanna miss, darlin’,” McCree said, grinning.

Hanzo kissed the tip softly, and smeared a clear bead of precum with his lips over the swollen head of McCree’s length, but he knew the cowboy was bursting in need and he wanted to please him more than anything. He trapped his cock between his lips and sucked, his left hand mimicking the movement as he was getting used to the thickness in his mouth, circling his tongue around and stealing a loud moan from McCree.

The cowboy, unable to control the noises leaving his mouth, focused on the wetness and the warmth around his cock, on that playful, naughty tongue brushing his skin and inflicting so much pleasure on him.

“Oh good Lord, you feel so good,” he said, his fingers tangled on Hanzo’s hair, keeping them out of the way while he looked down, trying not to drool at the beautiful sight that was Hanzo Shimada on his cock.

A smirk twitched up the corner of his lip and Hanzo took him deeper, both his hands now on McCree’s body, needing to touch the defined muscles writhing under his hands, the slight rocking of his hips, the cowboy losing control, and the tugging at his hair that made him moan and hum as he bobbed his head back and forth.

McCree tried not to jerk his hips, but it was unavoidable when that sinful mouth wrapped his length and that tongue brushed the side of his cock in a way it was driving him mad. He wanted more, he needed more. The sweltering in his chest urging him to surrender.

Hanzo took all of McCree’s cock inside his mouth until the fuzz of his hair tingled his nose and the head tapped the back of his throat. The cowboy lost it, groaning and tilting his hips rhythmically, eager for more. And Hanzo let him, urged him to do it, sucking at him and dragging back only to gasp for air and come back, engulfing the massive cock of McCree as though he had been doing it his whole life.

When McCree saw Hanzo struggling with his pants to free his cock and touch himself while sucking him, McCree knew that was it for him, his breath sped up, the beating of his heart unbearable in his chest.

“Damn, Hanzo,” McCree cursed and moaned.

The cowboy surrendered to the lingering pressure down his balls and, with an irrepressible thrust from his hips that he cursed in his mind, he shoved his cock in Hanzo’s throat and spilled himself. The jolt of his orgasm crushed him but he didn’t dare to take his eyes off the man kneeled at his feet, amazed.

Hanzo gagged at the sudden release and swallowed, the jerking of the cock in his mouth and the warm come coming out from it almost sent him over the edge, but he tasted every single drop of McCree’s spent as if it was the most precious gift, just for him, the reward for his doing.

“Hanzo, darlin’,” he moaned, his body trembling while he watched Hanzo still sucking his half-hard cock, taking him out lazily, as though he didn’t want it to end and was hoarding the last shakes of his orgasm. He let him do it, oversensitive and weak on the knees, relishing in that satisfied, flushed face looking at him thirsty and longing. And then McCree realized Hanzo hadn’t come yet and forced his brain and muscles to work again to please him.

McCree helped Hanzo up, bringing him into a kiss where he tasted himself. He should’ve kissed him back in Dorado, not be a coward and follow his cowboy gut because then he would’ve been enjoying the pleasures of that sinful mouth for weeks. They will have to make up for lost time.

“Sit on the bed,” McCree said.

“I won’t last, just let me finish,” Hanzo mumbled, still jerking off against McCree’s thigh, rutting against him desperately.

But the cowboy ignored him, pulled his pants up how he could and walked backward with Hanzo, kissing, and biting, and sucking those swollen lips, those wonderful glorious lips that could inflict so much pleasure, and that he already missed around his cock.

“Jesse,” Hanzo begged, sitting while McCree got rid of the pants, and the shoes, and everything. He wanted Hanzo naked just for him, naked and wonderful, a sore mess glancing at him with hooded lids while an unsatisfied greed burst in his gaze.

Hanzo obediently spread his legs to make room for Jesse between them, and the cowboy kneeled on the floor in front of him, with a predatory look on his face, and froze for a moment.

“Are you going to stare at it?” Hanzo teased.

“It is so pretty darlin’, you wouldn’t believe it,” McCree said, admiring the alluring beauty of a perfectly thick, round cock, swollen with pleasure and waiting for him. No trace of hair, he already knew, just like he had imagined.

He took Hanzo’s leg and placed it on his shoulder while he leaned forward to kiss the hard cock waiting needily for him, leaking and dripping clear beads that he kissed and lapped greedily. His hand grasped Hanzo’s ass, that wonderful ass he wouldn’t have enough in his life. He moaned just thinking about the things he wanted to do to him.

“Please, Jesse,” Hanzo said, his right hand wrapping tightly his length in a desperate attempt to unleash the bursting pressure down his body.

“For God’s sake, let me choke on it, sweetheart,” McCree said, removing Hanzo’s hand and sinking his cock into his mouth in one single movement, too eager and heated to be patient any longer. Not that Hanzo could hold on much either.

“ _Ikisou_ _!_ ” Hanzo wailed.

McCree had the nerve to chuckle with a hard cock in his mouth. If he had made Hanzo drop the English and curse in Japanese he was doing something smart right. So he sucked on that cock as though his life depended on it, kneading the butt cheek in his hand and drinking with pleasure the moans and cries from Hanzo, who tugged at his hair encouraging him to go faster.

McCree didn’t need to breathe, or air to live, he needed Hanzo to come hard in his throat and taste the victory himself. And the archer pleased him, with more Japanese cursing echoing in the room, he painted McCree's throat with white stripes that the cowboy swallowed while sucking Hanzo dry until he pulled his head back. A spur of come smeared his lips, and Hanzo looked down at him with a satisfied smile and the sweetest blush on his cheeks, his chest going up and down, barely able to catch a sharp intake of air.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said, and the cowboy chuckled at his politeness. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping away the drool of his own eagerness, and fell on the bed next to Hanzo, enveloping him with his arms and legs, just wanting to feel his body close.

“Yer a dream, my dear,” McCree whispered in his ear while Hanzo laughed and snuggled into his chest, spreading soft gentle kisses on his neck and jaw and any place at his mouth reach. He tangled his legs with the cowboy and they lost themselves in the aftertaste of what they had shared and the start of something else. Hopefully.

“Sweet pie…” McCree mumbled lovingly, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s forehead.

“What is it with you and the pet names?” Hanzo asked.

“Don't ya’ like it when I call ya’ pretty things? Want me to stop?” McCree asked, frowning.

“First, I do not think you could restrain yourself and second I… do not mind it,” Hanzo said, with a half-smile that didn’t go unnoticed by McCree.

“Ya’ like it! Don't ya’ worry, sugar, your secret is safe with me,” McCree crossed his heart and Hanzo trapped his hand and kissed the palm, pressing his cheek on it and glancing up at the cowboy who had a love-struck gaze in his eyes. McCree traced circles with his thumb on his cheek, feeling the beard on his jaw tickling the skin, and the usually tied up hair all mussy. “As a man who has had his fair share of one-night-stands, I gotta say…” McCree started.

“Am I fooling myself?” Hanzo said, trying to break free from the cowboy’s embrace. If this had been a one-time thing or just sex, it would break his heart, but he would endure it with the little pride he had left and will work out his crush on McCree somehow.

“I gotta say,” the cowboy repeated, tightening his grip on him. “This ain’t nothin’ like that, not by a long shot, darlin’,” McCree said, smiling widely at him.

“You sure?” Hanzo asked, even if he already knew the answer. McCree lifted his chin with a knuckle and whispered the words into his mouth while his eyes saw right through him, the dragons answering the call and growling his name in his chest. The cowboy’s name.

“Pretty damn sure, my dear,” McCree whispered, sealing their lips into a kiss so Hanzo wouldn’t say anything about it but melt into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna get smuttier and fluffier....... you've been warned.
> 
> The next chapter's title is "Save a horse ride a cowboy" and I regret nothing!
> 
>  
> 
> Ikisou! (行きそう！) means "I'm gonna cum!"


	15. Save a horse ride a cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and McCree have downtime to spend together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW <3

_Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar, 2076_

McCree had been in seventh heaven for the past days. It was hard to believe he had spent every night in Hanzo’s bed exploring his body shamelessly. He sighed, remembering how peacefully he had slept and how wonderful was to wake up with Hanzo Shimada between his arms.

“Mornin’, Sunshines,” McCree said, entering the mess hall and pouring himself a coffee.

“Good morning, Jesse,” Genji said, frowning suspiciously. “Why are you in such a good mood lately?” He arched an eyebrow at him, suspecting exactly why his brother was smiling too much and the cowboy overflowing with rapture.

“A good night sleep can do miracles,” McCree said, sipping his coffee and surely repressing a smug dirty smile.

“That is true,” Angela pointed. “As I was saying, Mei won’t come to Gibraltar, I couldn’t convince her.” She sighed. Dr. Ziegler came back yesterday and brought good and bad news about what had happened at the Ecopoint Antarctica. Mei was the only survivor, and Winston was right: without the recall she might have died too.

“At least we could do something for her,” Genji said. “And she will still be affiliated with Overwatch and will work with us.”

“Why doesn't she join us here?” McCree asked.

“Mei has found very disturbing data these past nine years. She wants to travel to the other Ecopoints to recover more data and put it all together with Athena’s assistance,” Angela said. “In her own words, this is a worldwide danger that cannot be ignored any longer.”

“I don't know her, but I already like her,” McCree said. “Hope she visits at least.”

“I am surprised she wanted to join Overwatch despite the Petra’s Act,” Genji said.

“Do you know what she said when we finally found her? Our world is worth fighting for, and Mei is right, that’s why we’re all here.”

“Amen to that,” McCree said, lifting his mug, toasting.

“As much as I’d like to stay here all morning I have work to do and reports to write,” Angela said, leaving her mug in the sink. “See you later.” She gave Genji a peck on the cheek and left, leaving the ninja blushing and rubbing the back of his neck at the everydayness of the gesture. McCree chuckled and leaned lazily on the kitchen counter.

“Yer drooling, Genji,” McCree teased.

Genji opened his mouth to speak but then spotted Hanzo coming down the stairs, and a mischievous smile that scared McCree crept up his face. “Speaking of which,” Genji said, relishing in the wonderful shirt his brother was wearing. One he had gifted him yesterday, one that would be the ultimate prank of his life to McCree. And now it was time to collect the reward.

“Good morning,” Hanzo said, a hard to hide the smug smile on his lips while he fixed himself a cup of coffee. He had told Genji about his feelings for the cowboy the other day while they meditated, and his little brother and his evil mind had an idea to tease McCree that made him laugh.

Hanzo was not the guy to prank someone, he recognized he wasn’t even funny, but he had a sense of humor and above all, doing something together with Genji, even if it was messing around with the cowboy, brought up a smile to his soul. So he had agreed, and there he was, wearing a white shirt with a perfectly readable message on it: _Save a horse ride a cowboy_.

He stood near Genji, glancing at the distracted cowboy and relishing in the sweet half-smile he always had around him. They had spent increasingly time together, and he had noticed those little things that made McCree so special and charming.

McCree sipped his coffee, and before it happened, Hanzo could perfectly see his eyes open wide, processing the message on his shirt, and the coffee misting the floor at his feet while McCree coughed and choked on it.

“Are you okay, Jesse?” Genji asked, repressing the guffaw that wanted to leave his throat.

“Ya’, little shit,” McCree said, still coughing, but when he saw Hanzo chuckling, his jaw dropped. “Ya’ too, honey?” He shook his head, flustered and laughing. “Who would’ve thought the Shimadas combined could pull somethin’ like this off?”

Genji winked at Hanzo and nudged him. “I told you, he has a dirty mind.”

“I believe I already knew,” Hanzo said, smiling.

“My job here is done, and my coffee too, so I better do something useful with my day,” Genji said, squeezing Jesse’s shoulder on his way out, still chuckling. McCree knew he would tease him with this for the rest of his life, but he could make the best of it. The cowboy looked at Hanzo with a wolfish grin on his face.

“Ya’ know what that means?” Hanzo nodded. “If ya’ want to save a horse the trouble and ride a fellow cowboy instead,” McCree leaned forward to whisper the words closer. “I volunteer.”

“I might take upon your offer, cowboy,” Hanzo said, sharing a knowing smile with Jesse. “Why don’t you meet me in my room after lunch?”

“Honey, I could carry ya’ upstairs right now and yer gonna torture me until lunch?” McCree pouted.

“Yes. I have work to do, but then I am all yours,” Hanzo said, risking a peck on the lips that surprised McCree and left him starving. He did not expect that from Hanzo, but he felt blessed.

“All mine, I like that,” McCree had a stupid grin on his face, watching Hanzo leave with that stupid shirt and a sweet smile. He always knew he was a sappy cowboy, but damn if he wasn’t into Hanzo like no one before.

 

McCree was impatient, this had been the longest morning of his life but spending the rest of the afternoon locked in Hanzo’s room had him thrilled. They will have enough time just for themselves, alone, without worrying about someone interrupting them.

He got into his room and knocked on the bathroom door that led to Hanzo’s room, a path he had been following the past two nights to sleep with Hanzo and get lost in his body, but he was nervous, knowing they had a precious time to spend together, to try new things, things he had been dreaming of since he had met Hanzo.

These past nights had been amazing, getting to know each other, talking until wee hours in the bed, learning how their bodies fit together, how to make him moan and whine, and beg for more. Hanzo was intense in everything he did, he had learned that quick, and loved it even quicker. Unhurried nights of pleasure, no expectations, just enjoying their bodies in a way he hadn’t enjoy any lover before, and he didn’t know Hanzo could make him bite his own hand bruisingly just by the touch of his hand in his cock, but he did.

McCree heard a come in through the door and his jaw dropped when he saw Hanzo naked on the bed waiting for him.

“You do know you don’t have to knock, right?” Hanzo said, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Dang, ain’t ya’ a sight for sore eyes,” McCree said, leaving the hat on the desk and walking to towards the bed, relishing in the widening smile of Hanzo as he did.

McCree leaned forward and kissed him, the oh-so-familiar taste of Hanzo’s mouth going right to his groin while he hummed a happy tune into his lips and his right hand trailed a lascivious path down Hanzo’s torso.

“Ya' know this was one of my wet dreams not so long ago, sugar?” McCree teased, taking off his boots.

“How is it going so far?” Hanzo said, kneeling at McCree’s back on the bed and unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers.

“Dreamy,” McCree said, reaching back with his hands to caress Hanzo’s thighs.

The archer got rid of the shirt and spared kisses along his broad shoulders while his hands traveled down McCree’s back until Hanzo snuggled into him from behind and whispered into his ear. “I cannot wait to have you inside me,” he murmured.

McCree’s moan brought a smile up to his face while the cowboy clawed his fingers into his flesh. Hanzo loved that the cowboy had a thing for dirty talking, and he was more than happy to oblige. In fact, this would be their first time, after nights of getting to know each other and realizing the bursting energy between them, Hanzo couldn’t wait any longer to have him.

His hands roamed a slow path down his chest to tease at the waist of his jeans, struggling with the big buckle until kind hands helped him and Hanzo slid the fly open and palmed greedily the half-hard cock inside.

“It is too big to be practical,” Hanzo said, complaining about the buckle.

“Ya’ didn't say that ‘bout what’s under it, sugar,” McCree teased.

Hanzo chuckled, kneading the bulge as it got harder under his hand while his mouth sucked the skin on Jesse’s neck leaving red and purple marks. He liked to see the cowboy around marked by him, so Hanzo bit harder, clenching his teeth around the flesh and releasing when McCree whined.

“You’ve got a bite,” McCree complained in a husky voice.

He released the hard cock from the underwear and stroke him lazily, squeezing and twisting the hilt and all the way up to the head. Hanzo set a pace he knew McCree liked, one that had him panting and bucking his hips into his hand in no time asking for more.

The cowboy loved to come undone in his hands, he didn’t need more than what the archer gave him and sometimes he didn’t know he wanted something until Hanzo gave it to him. He read his needs like no one before, and he felt safe and cared for in every single touch. McCree sensed Hanzo’s hard cock pressed into the small of his back and lifted his ass from the bed just to swoop his pants to the floor and kick them off.

“Honey…” He whispered, Hanzo’s hand stirring him up so quickly he felt his cheeks burning and his stomach clench. McCree turned his head around to trap Hanzo’s mouth in a sloppy wet kiss while his hips uncontrollably fucked his hand. “I want to…”

“Tell me,” Hanzo said, his tongue darting out to tease his lips while his hand stopped at the base of his cock, and thank god because otherwise, McCree wouldn’t be able to articulate a word.

“Lie on the bed for me, sweetheart, let me treat ya’ right,” McCree said.

Hanzo kissed his lips briefly with a smirk on his face and obeyed, glancing at the cowboy with hooded lids while he turned around and crawled on the bed next to him. McCree removed the hair tie and spread his hair on the pillow. Hanzo smiled at how he loved to see him disheveled because of him.

McCree cupped his face and motioned himself on top of Hanzo while he sprawled his legs to accommodate him, granting him with a wonderful sight of a hard cock and a tight ass.

“Yer gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” McCree whispered into his mouth, brushing his lips into Hanzo’s and down his chin and jaw until he kissed his throat while his hands kneaded Hanzo’s chest, tracing his strong muscles.

“A good death I hope,” Hanzo gasped, the weight of the cowboy over him making him want to rock his hips against him.

“Oh honey, If I could choose a place to die it would be in your arms,” McCree’s husky voice said into the skin of his neck before biting harshly, eliciting a moan from Hanzo, and then he licked the indents of his teeth.

His thumbs circled Hanzo’s nipples, and it made the archer blush, it had been the best discovery of his life when he realized how sensitive he was in this area and how quickly he could turn Hanzo into a sore mess. He smelled his soap on the skin; he had a shower the other day with his gel just to smell of Hanzo the whole day.

“Jesse,” Hanzo moaned, wanting exactly what Jesse was about to do. He tangled his fingers into the cowboy’s hair and stroked his head.

“I got ya’, my dear,” McCree said, trapping a perked nipple between his lips and sucking at it slowly, gently while Hanzo moaned and arched his back, wrapping one of his legs around his waist with eagerness.

His steel hand twisted and pinched the other nipple until his mouth trailed an invisible path to the other hard nip. He traced the outline of his tattoo with a flattened tongue, lapping greedily the skin and feeling the heat coming from it.

“Are they real dragons?” Jesse whispered, landing random kisses around the area while his thumb played with the other nipple.

“I am a real dragon,” Hanzo teased, and Jesse chuckled before biting his nip. Hanzo wailed at the sudden pain, but a gentle tongue turned the sting into the most pleasurable sensation.

McCree kissed his way down until he found a throbbing cock on his way, one he blatantly ignored to Hanzo’s disappointment, and instead, kissed his inner thighs and traced circles with his tongue in a playful torture that had Hanzo rocking his hips and wrinkling the sheets. And then McCree pressed his tongue at the base of his cock and worked his way up slowly, relishing in Hanzo’s eyes looking intently at him and the twitch of the cock at his mercy.

“When I see ya’ so clean I just wanna get ya’ dirty,” McCree said with a wolfish grin on his lips, and Hanzo shyly smiled, caressing his head with a loving hand. The cowboy teased between his butt cheeks sliding a finger back and forth his crack to find Hanzo’s tight ass react to his touch.

“I thought you would be disappointed if I had sorted that out by myself,” Hanzo said, blushing.

“An’ there’s nothin’ I want more right now than opening ya’ up…” McCree said, licking his lips briefly and making Hanzo moan, “…with my tongue.”

McCree kissed Hanzo’s aching cock and watched a spur of precum come out of it. He licked it, tasting the archer and glancing up at him, that blissed out face bursting with anticipation warmed his heart. “Turn around, my dear,” the cowboy asked.

He didn’t have to ask twice. Hanzo obeyed while the cowboy gave him space and helped with his legs, kneading the back of his thighs and sprawling Hanzo’s legs on the bed. It amazed him how trusting he was with him, they had spent most of their adult lives alone and they had found someone to rely on, to trust blindly in and out of the bedroom.

Hanzo rested his chest on the mattress, his head over his arms and he turned his head to take a peek at McCree on his back, letting the cowboy position his legs how he wanted, yielding under his touch. The cowboy grasped his ass, and Hanzo followed the movement with his hips by instinct while those callous hands massaged his butt cheeks. A quick spank on his backside left a sting that eased quickly by a loving hand rubbing the area.

“Cowboy!” Hanzo laughed, glancing back at him.

“Too temptin’ not to do it,” McCree said, kissing the area with a smug smile on his face.

“Do it again,” Hanzo said, lifting his ass to him while the same hand slapped his ass and he hissed before a warm hand brushed his skin.

“If you keep indulging my dirty mind we’re gonna get very distracted here, sweetheart,” McCree said, leaning forward and lowering Hanzo’s hips enough to have him within his reach. He hugged his waist from behind tangling his arms around his legs, ready to feast on that beautiful ass presented in front of him.

The red burned his cheeks when he felt Jesse’s breath so close to him, and his heart sped up. He clung to the sheets and felt his cock leaking even if he hadn’t even touched himself yet. The bed bounced behind him and Hanzo spread his knees further apart, arching his spine for Jesse, letting his hands guide him when he felt soft kisses and steady hands holding him.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said.

“I’ma gonna eat ya’ up until ya’ scream my name,” McCree said, and he let his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin between his butt cheeks while Hanzo moaned at the touch of his wet tongue.

It only encouraged McCree to do it again, to press his tongue right into his hole, feeling the spasm of the muscle while he moved his tongue back and forth, teasing lightly, slowly and then faster, enjoying every single sound coming out of Hanzo’s mouth.

McCree’s tongue darted out to trace the outline of his ass and Hanzo writhed underneath his touch. Hanzo was positive that if he touched himself, he would come with a few strokes with that sinful tongue working on his ass, but he focused on breathing, enjoying greatly McCree’s doing and moaning like he hadn’t in years.

The cowboy hardened his tongue and pushed the tip impossibly inside. Hanzo relaxed, and welcomed him eagerly pushing his hips back. He fucked him slowly, feeling the ring muscle  clench with a spasm of pleasure. Maybe Hanzo hadn’t worked himself up today, but they had been playing these past days, making his job easier now. Though this would be their first time. They had let things flow naturally between them, and McCree was so happy about it now that he had Hanzo melting under his tongue, and getting ready for his cock.

He used his thumbs to tease the outline while his tongue made Hanzo a sore mess in no time. One day he would make him come like this, with his tongue deep in his ass and stroking him from behind, but not today, today he wanted to feel that tight ass around his thick cock and fuck the archer senseless.

Gathering a strength he didn’t know he had, McCree stroked him a few times with his tongue and stopped, kissing his butt cheeks and regretting it the moment Hanzo whined. What a beautiful sight was Hanzo Shimada flushed and blushing beautifully sprawled for him on the bed.

“Be right back, my dear,” he said, patting his ass and landing another kiss before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed the mouthwash and rinsed quickly his mouth, he personally didn’t mind it but he didn’t want to make Hanzo uncomfortable, and he wanted to kiss him to death for the rest of the evening. Just in case, he reached for the condoms and lube from his nightstand and hurried back, finding Hanzo lying on his back in full display with a naughty finger up his ass.

“Darlin’?” McCree said, arching a questioning eyebrow at him and crawling in the bed grabbing his wrist to take his finger out and kiss his way up his chest until he reached Hanzo’s lips smirking and kissed them, sneaking his tongue inside his mouth teasingly.

Hanzo tasted the mouthwash and chuckled softly into the kiss, his hands caressing the expanse of his muscled back and tracing too many scars and healed wounds that broke his heart. He would kiss them all away.

“You did not have to,” Hanzo teased, licking his lip at the minty taste.

“Oh, ya’ filthy man,” McCree said, leaving the lube on the bed and the condoms on the nightstand.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, cupping his face with both hands. “Do you mind if we do not use them? I want you…” Hanzo cleared his throat and blushed while McCree widely smiled at him.

“Ya’ want me to make a mess of ya’? Because darlin’, I’m your Huckleberry,” McCree said, bringing Hanzo into a deep kiss full of tongue and teeth and unconfessed love. “I’d do whatever ya’ asked of me.” McCree murmured into his mouth. “Anythin’, anytime, I live to please ya’.”

Hanzo gasped, holding tightly the man on top of him, and repressing the urge to let the tears out at the confession. He wasn’t used to being loved, cared for with such intensity. He did not deserve McCree but he would hoard him for as long as he let him.

“Now, squeeze some lube in my good hand cause I still have work to do,” Jesse said while Hanzo did as requested.

“I wonder how it is with the other hand,” Hanzo said, teasing and biting his lip.

“Hard and cold at first,” McCree said, warming up the lube in his hand. “Feels good, I like it on myself, but I want ya’ to feel me.” He kneeled on the bed, and Hanzo, smiling at Jesse’s lascivious look in his eyes, lifted his left leg helping himself with his arm when McCree stroked between his butt cheeks and slid a finger inside.

“Another, Jesse, please,” Hanzo moaned.

“Eager…” McCree growled, adding too quickly another finger, unable to help himself and feeling the tight muscle. Hanzo clenched around him but rocked his hips into his hand, and McCree moved his fingers.

Hanzo closed his eyes and relaxed at the pleasure easing the pressure; McCree’s fingers circling the inside of his hole at a leisurely pace that only made him want more and fast but he didn’t have to ask for it. His moans told Jesse what he wanted and a third finger tightly joined the others.

McCree kissed his neck and nibbled his skin lovingly while his fingers worked him open unhurriedly but impatiently, knowing what was to come, the pleasure that awaited both. Hanzo wanted the thick cock of McCree inside, stretching him out. He wanted to come around it, already on edge fantasizing about it while those lascivious fingers fucked him.

“You promised a ride, cowboy,” Hanzo impatiently said, and McCree chuckled.

Hanzo moaned when the fingers left him empty and wanting, but he watched while McCree smeared some more lube on his swollen cock, blushing by how horny he was already. Then he leaned back on the bed, partially reclined on the wall that made a headboard, and cleaned the excess lube from his hand on the sheets.

“I’m all yours, my dear, but I warn ya’ I’ma gonna come embarrassingly soon,” McCree said, helping Hanzo hover over his body while he stroked his thighs and up his waist, relishing in the well-built body trembling by his doing, and that leaking cock at his reach. At that moment McCree knew Hanzo wouldn’t last much either.

Hanzo positioned the tip of his cock at his stretched hole and pushed down slightly, moaning while McCree’s hands helped to support his thighs. He took another inch, the head breaching and stretching him further. It felt so good he was already out of breath.

“Take your time, sweetheart,” McCree gasped, watching mesmerized Hanzo’s flushed face and hooded lids looking at him, and then glancing down at his own cock slowly disappearing into him. Hanzo moved up and down, getting used to McCree’s thickness. He was so hard.

“Fuck, Jesse, you are big,” Hanzo moaned.

“Yer takin’ me so well, darlin’,” McCree praised him.

McCree’s cock was slick with lube and felt so good, so smooth once he got used to it, once he sat and the whole length was inside him, throbbing with need and hard as a rock. Hanzo took a moment to watch McCree’s blissed-out face, a heavenly expression, eyes glittering with lust and desire for him.

The cowboy gripped his ass and opened his legs further to accommodate him better and to pursue his own lewdness and push his hips up, thrusting into the archer. Hanzo moaned and begged for more while his hands slid down McCree’s fuzzy chest.

They had no words left to say because they let the dance of his bodies to speak for themselves, and they spoke of lust, and longing, they spoke of love when Hanzo leaned on his chest and McCree cupped his face. They spoke of how long it had taken them to find each other in an unfair world, but they had. They finally had.

Hanzo caressed McCree’s throat with his right hand while the other wrinkled the sheets desperately. He spread his knees further apart and arched his spine to meet the merciless onslaughts of McCree, unable to restrain himself any longer and ridden by the desire for Hanzo.

“ _Motto_ _tsuyoku_ _shite!_ ” Hanzo moaned, and Jesse chuckled.

“I’ma gonna assume,” he paused, breathless. “Ya’ want me to fuck you harder.”

“Fuck,” Hanzo said, out of breath too. “Yes.”

McCree was smart enough to recognize a victory when he saw it, and he exploited it, bucking his hips up while he thrust into him in the same angle repeatedly. He felt the precum smearing his stomach and Hanzo’s hands bruisingly grasping his shoulders while he spread his ass with his own hands and fucked into him irregularly, following his own smoldering pleasure.

His orgasm crashed him unexpectedly at the same time Hanzo wailed his name into his mouth, breaking the messy kiss they were submerged into. The archer spilled himself in an irrepressible stream that painted the cowboy’s chest with pearlescent spurs of warm come.

McCree’s cock pulsed and twitched as he came, completely sank into the wonders of his ass. Hanzo’s ass clenched around his cock rhythmically while McCree rocked his hips slowly, his cum overflowing his hole until Hanzo collapsed into his chest and sighed, satisfied, and McCree had nothing more to give him but kisses near his face and sweet nothings at the air.

“A dream come true,” McCree whispered, kissing his forehead and holding him tightly, not minding the mess between their bodies. Hanzo stroked his neck and jaw and glanced up to press a soft kiss on his lips. McCree smiled when he did that, it was so casual and so innocent it felt like the most natural thing to do. It was so easy to show affection between them it scared him deeply at the same time that filled his heart with unbridled joy.

“I am very satisfied with my ride, cowboy,” Hanzo teased, chuckling. He was happy, and it melted Jesse’s heart.

“Honey, ya’ came untouched, and I sure damn loved that,” McCree said, making Hanzo blush shyly. Hanzo pulled out McCree’s half-hard cock and stood. “Where are ya’ goin’?” The cowboy complained.

He came back clean in a few moments with a wet towel that he used to wipe McCree’s body dearly, discarding it on the floor before lying next to him.

“I want to cuddle with you now,” Hanzo said, snuggling into the cowboy who had just fucked him senseless.

“Thought ya’ wanted a mess, and ya’ cleaned it up,” McCree laughed, wrapping his arms around Hanzo and enjoying their bodies together. It had been so much better than he had anticipated, but it didn’t surprise him.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said.

“For what, my dear?”

“For gifting me a piece of heaven I do not deserve,” Hanzo sighed, glancing at McCree with a loving smile.

“Honey, hey,” he kissed his lips. “Look, I know it’s too soon an’ ya’ might wanna send me to hell, but I want to be with ya’, I want the whole package.”

Hanzo turned and rested his elbow on the bed to look at him with a puzzled face. He could not believe what the cowboy was suggesting, and it was even harder to believe that it was what he wanted too. “A relationship?”

“Yeah, with ya’,” McCree said, blushing and tracing the outline of his jaw with his fingers. “Til ya’ don't want me anymore.” He had never been in a relationship before, not in anything you could call a serious relationship, but he knew how he felt about Hanzo already, and sometimes, the things you don’t say in time get in the way of what you want, and McCree wouldn’t let that happen to them.

“But I am a mess, Jesse,” Hanzo said, scowling at him scared of seeing through his eyes and finding the same monster he saw in the mirror every morning. “I would not know where to start or what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out together if you want,” McCree said, still wanting to hear the words from his mouth, the words that would say that he wanted the same as him. Hanzo smiled and pressed his lips against him, tickling him with their beards brushing together.

“I want you,” Hanzo whispered, while McCree’s hands slowly wrapped themselves around his waist to hold him closer. “I have no doubts.”

“It’s okay if yer not sure, sweetheart, I still have a couple of hours to convince ya’,” McCree said, wiggling his eyebrows and leading a naughty hand down to Hanzo’s ass.

“Or to make me regret it,” Hanzo teased, earning a bite from the cowboy on his neck and a spank on his ass.

“Yer mine, darlin’,” he mumbled while clenching the teeth around his flesh and making Hanzo moan. “All mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Motto tsuyoku shite!” (もっと強くして！) means "Harder!"
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> “We have detected an emergency at the Overwatch Museum,” Winston explained. “Their security system has been experiencing breaches and power cuts according to Athena. Tracer and I will go take a look.”  
> “It’s probably nothing,” Tracer sighed, disappointed.


	16. Elephant in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Winston go to the Overwatch Museum while the boys stay in Gibraltar getting ready for their next mission.

_Watchpoint_ _: Gibraltar, 2076_

Debriefings early in the morning were Winston’s favorite thing and McCree’s least favorite thing as the yawns and groans leaving his mouth proved. But this seemed more than a routine meeting. Winston was wearing his armor, Tesla cannon in hand, and Tracer stood next to him, twirling the pulse pistols in her hands joyfully.

“We have detected an emergency at the Overwatch Museum,” Winston explained. “Their security system has been experiencing breaches and power cuts according to Athena. Tracer and I will go take a look.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Tracer sighed, disappointed.

“And that’d be a good thing,” Winston glared at her. “Need any adjustments to your chronal accelerator before we leave?”

“I think… -Lena mimicked radio static and earned a chuckle from McCree- just kidding, Winston! It works great,” she said.

Hanzo couldn’t believe Doomfist gauntlet was displayed in a museum, and if McCree’s informant was right, this innocent meddling could be a lot more than what Winston was suggesting.

“We will be back later tonight, hopefully,” Winston said. “But that is not why I summoned you all here.”

“What is it?” Angela asked.

“London. A group of radicals is trying to get rid of the omnics in King’s Row. As if their situation wasn’t already precarious,” Winston said.

They all exchanged puzzled looks, the situation in the city had always been difficult, but not as bad as what they had gone through in the uprising. Modern Britain was built by omnics, and the humans denied them the basic rights. Forced to live in the Underworld and cast away, the omnics wanted peace above all. The assassination of Mondatta got the radicals worked up and violence in the neighborhood was part of their everyday life.

“Thanks to Athena and the news, we found out they’re trying to use an Electro Magnetic Pulse device,” Winston said, knitting his eyebrows.

“It will be a slaughter if they succeed,” Genji said, worried. “We have to do something.”

“Overwatch will send a team, but we have to be discreet,” Winston said. Overwatch going into public too soon without the United Nations’ support could be the end of the organization, no matter the good they’d been doing.

“Who’s up for this one?” McCree asked, meeting Hanzo’s gaze and reading the same distress in his eyes.

“All four of you, our priority is to disable and retrieve the EMP device, no civilian casualties, and do not open fire unless the terrorists fire first,” Winston said, glancing at McCree who rolled his eyes as though he was the only mercenary there. His days on Blackwatch granted him a reputation for getting the job done without following the rules if necessary. He followed Gabriel Reyes’ book; one he knew like the back of his hand.

“I agree,” Angela said. “When are we leaving?”

Hanzo pondered the situation, wanting to check the full mission report before getting to conclusions, but this seemed like the kind of mission that could go very wrong very fast. Radical civilians were no match for their skills and if they opened fire it would be messy and dangerous. But they had to do something to help the omnics. Maybe stopping this attempt would calm the situation in the neighborhood.

“You are leaving tomorrow, check with Athena the details,” Winston said. “We have no festival here to cover our tracks like we had in Dorado, so be careful. You will be staying at the Alderworth Hotel.”

“Woah, we livin’ in high cotton here or what?” McCree said, laughing, but the scientist ignored him.

“Check in separately, disguise your identities, you know the drill,” Winston said.

“Good luck at the museum,” Genji said.

“Thanks, love!” Lena said. “I wish I could go to London too.”

“Meeting adjourned then,” Winston said. “Let’s go, Lena, we have work to do.”

 

McCree smiled at the well-aimed arrow and Hanzo’s face of concentration while he trained relentlessly at the shooting gallery. The cowboy enjoyed the show from a nearby bench, cleaning Peacekeeper for the upcoming mission. He loved the little ritual to bits, and it was even more enjoyable with such a delightful sight.

Peacekeeper laid unloaded on the bench between his legs, deliberately placed on a cotton rag. McCree took it in his hands, he loved the weight of his weapon, so familiar after so many years relying on it. He pushed the cylinder out and checked for cartridges, there would be none, he handled his weapons well.

Hanzo came back from retrieving his arrows and smiled at him from the distance before starting over again. McCree got butterflies in his stomach and shook his head as though he was a teenager in love. He slid the brush into the barrel and twisted it, slowly going all the way in through the barrel and back the other way. The upcoming mission had him uneasy, civilians mixed in a war zone, radicals with weapons they do not know how to use. Everything was teetering on the edge of disaster.

McCree removed any last grime with a clean cloth and dried the barrel, repeating the operation in the cylinder. At least he would get another chance to work with Hanzo and show him he was reckless for a reason, but that he had nothing to worry about. McCree admired Hanzo’s tattoo from a distance, distracting him, his muscles tense when he drew the bowstring and released another arrow.

Last night he had kissed, and bit, and traced with his tongue every design of his ink, driving Hanzo mad. It might be hard to portray in your body the emblem of your family when they had done so much wrong to you and your brother; so McCree printed good memories on it for Hanzo, and now he wouldn’t have to think about the Shimada Clan but that night the cowboy kissed every single part of his arm while sending him over the edge with a naughty hand.

The cowboy sighed, moving to his favorite part. He took the oil gun and smeared some over a clothed patch, coating all metal surfaces of Peacekeeper, wiping away the dirt and the gunpowder, and leaving the revolver clean and shiny. McCree saw Hanzo picking up the arrows again to start over and snorted at the resilience of his partner in his training.

“Hey, honey, can ya’ shatter an arrow?” McCree yelled, getting Hanzo’s attention.

“Can I breathe?” Hanzo said and snorted, shooting an arrow that hit the bullseye and swiftly fetching for another one. It was so fast it impressed McCree, the second arrow twitched and traveled the air until it sliced in two his sister. Hanzo turned to him with a smug smile and bowed his head to McCree who winked at him and tipped his hat, even more in love with that man if that was possible.

Hanzo Shimada was admirable handling the bow, he had thought it was a silly weapon to bring to the battlefield, but well positioned, Hanzo was a deadly threat. Even at a close distance, he could shoot several arrows quickly and kill you. He wiped off the excess oil of the gun with another clean rag to leave it even shinier, and to get rid of the grease. McCree admired how beautiful Peacekeeper looked freshly clean, satisfied with his work.

The noise of steps behind him made McCree turn around to see Genji approaching him. He had his usual grey hoodie on, gym bag in hand. He looked flustered by his previous workout and waved at him, glancing briefly at Hanzo, oblivious to his presence and still shooting arrows.

“Hanzo’s restless, isn’t he?” Genji said, sitting on the bench next to McCree.

“That he is,” McCree said, a half-smile showing on his face, but then he cleared his throat and looked at Genji. “Ya’ know,” McCree cleaned his hands with a rag. “I wanted to talk to ya’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“Hanzo told me,” Genji said. His brother was too obvious and the meditating sessions ended up in a conversation every time. Conversations where his brother had confessed, thrilled and blushing, how he felt about the cowboy and how they had started a relationship.

“An’ ya’ ain’t mad or anythin’?” McCree teased.

“No, I can tell he’s happy, and that you’re over the moon.” Genji nudged the cowboy and chuckled. He had never seen his friend like this.

“Never been good hidin’ things,” McCree said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I am happy for you both. It was unexpected, though I had a feeling after seeing you two together in Dorado that this might happen,” Genji said.

“I just want ya’ to know I care ‘bout him,” McCree said, blushing.

“I know, otherwise you’d be having a conversation with _Ryuichi moji_ , my katana,” Genji teased.

“You might be fast, Genji, but you ain’t faster than a bullet,” McCree bragged, arching his eyebrows at the ninja.

“Why don’t we find out?”

“Find out what?” Hanzo asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel and interrupting the punning exchange between them.

“Nothin’ darlin’,” McCree chuckled and Genji followed while Hanzo arched an eyebrow at the two men.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Hanzo said, glancing back and forth between Jesse and his brother. “What happened to Overwatch?” Genji and McCree shared a deep sigh, their gaze meeting for a moment.

“That is the big elephant in the room, honey,” McCree finally said. “I joined when I was seventeen, so been there to see everything fall apart.”

“Wasn’t it because of the explosion?” Hanzo asked. He had seen it in the news. How the public eye turned against Overwatch and the same United Nations that put them to work shut them down.

“That was the tip of the iceberg, I was gone by then, I don't know what happened an’ I’m not sure I want to,” McCree said.

“Me too. I left after we took down the clan,” Genji said. “I did not stay for the worst part.”

“Yeah, bastard, ya’ left me alone in the middle of a shit hole,” McCree complained.

“I am sorry, Jesse, I had to.” Genji abandoned Angela and Jesse to pursue his own path, but it was a decision he didn’t regret.

“Don't mind me,” McCree apologized. “First Ana got killed by that bitch, then you left,” he pointed Genji. “An’ I was alone, Blackwatch on the public eye, Gabe and Jack fighting every day as the damn married couple they should’ve been, an’ I couldn’t take it anymore and left too.”

“It was bound to happen since Overwatch got involved in the uprising despite being ordered not to by the UN,” Genji said. “I bet they redacted Petra’s act there.”

“Then you do not know what really happened,” Hanzo said, not getting any clear information, the facts were really blurry and confusing even for them who had been there.

“Overwatch was created to face the omnic war, and we made history, and then they didn’t need us anymore, our time had passed, and they got scared of what we could do,” Genji explained.

“Things went to hell like they always do,” McCree complained, and then realized how hurtful that sounded if they had just started something new, so he took Hanzo’s hand and kissed his knuckles briefly. “Not everythin’.” Hanzo’s lip twitched up at the gesture.

“Angela told me a fight that got out of hand between Morrison and Reyes at the Swiss Headquarters provoked the explosion of the base, and they died there, but she doesn’t want to talk much about it,” Genji said.

“Can’t blame her, poor thing,” McCree sighed.

“A grudge between two commanders is the reason Overwatch was disbanded?” Hanzo pointed.

“Well, they loved each other, but they also fell apart. Angela was close to them and it broke her heart to see them fighting over every little thing that happened in Overwatch and Blackwatch,” Genji said.

“May them rest in peace,” McCree said, not wanting to talk any more about how his commanders had betrayed everything they had created.

“I am sorry I brought up this subject,” Hanzo apologized.

“Don't ya’ worry, my dear, the short version is that we all stewed in our own juice,” McCree winked at him.

“Meaning?” Hanzo still had a hard time understanding the cowboy’s idiosyncrasies.

“We suffered from our own actions,” McCree chuckled.

“Winston did the right thing calling all agents back for active duty, we will not make the same mistakes and…” Dr. Ziegler entered the room, interrupting Genji and clearly flustered and panting. The three men stood, suspecting something had happened. They walked towards her, expecting bad news.

“You have to come to the mess hall, you wouldn’t believe what has happened. It’s all over the news,” Angela said, catching her breath.

“What is it?” Hanzo frowned.

“Winston and Lena?” Genji asked.

“They’re about to arrive, but Overwatch is publicly back.”

Angela dropped the bomb as though she was saying good morning, and they all hurried to the mess to watch the news. This was big. They were not ready to jump on a public rampage right now. This could mean the end of Overwatch before it even stood on its feet again.

The television replayed the same scene, the news anchor going crazy and describing how Winston fell through the glass roof of the museum followed by Widowmaker. Everyone could see how he shielded two innocent kids from the rain of bullets right before Reaper appeared in a cloud of black smoke right beside him and started shooting too. A spiral of death covered the whole room destroying almost everything until Winston and his primal rage countered the chaos in the museum and pushed them away.

McCree and Hanzo sat next to each other unable to take their eyes off the screen, perplex, and Genji and Angela did the same. The ninja turned up the volume, and they watched the same scenes on repeat while the reporters tried to make sense of what was happening.

“They were after Doomfist’s gauntlet after all,” Hanzo said.

“This isn’t right,” Angela said, concerned.

“There is an official statement from the United Nations,” Genji said, data pad in hand, grabbing everyone’s attention for a moment. “ _The United Nations has_ _not authorized any_ _Overwatch operations. The organization’s charter remains revoked_.”

“Damn,” McCree said.

“I would expect nothing less,” Hanzo snorted.

“This is unbelievable! They know what happened better than us, apparently: _Overwatch_ _was dismantled_ _due to overwhelming negative public sentiment and allegations of corruption and abuses of power_.”

“I didn’t know what I expected, to be honest,” Angela said. “That they, maybe, would reconsider that we can do good and make up for our past mistakes.”

“Those flannel mouth liars ain’t gonna stop us,” McCree said, frowning at Angela. But the cowboy feared being alone again, leaving Gibraltar and his friends behind, leaving Hanzo. The archer felt his distress and squeezed his knee because he would follow McCree to hell, Overwatch or not.

Athena announced the arrival of Winston and Lena moments before they crossed the door. Winston seemed worn out and weary but Lena portrayed a huge smile and was as excited as ever. The background noise of the television was a telltale of Winston’s stern façade.

 _Two former Overwatch agents risked life and limb against two_ _frighteningly_ _capable mercenaries, and the theft_ _was thwarted_ _._

The scientist sat on the floor next to them and sighed. Nobody said anything until he broke the silence, only filled with the noise of the television in the background. “It’s all over the news, right?” Winston said, sighing and watching the security footage playing on the news.

“How ‘bout bein’ discreet, huh? McCree teased, tempting his luck.

“I am too tired and worried to get angry at you McCree,” Winston said, glaring at him.

“C’mon mates! We’re official! We’re back,” Lena enthusiastically said, but his enthusiasm didn’t transfer as she had expected. “They’re saying we’re inspiring people, that we’re a new generation of heroes.”

“They could easily shut us down again,” Winston said, frustrated.

“I say we do as we must until we cannot do it anymore,” Genji said, joining Lena.

“That’s the spirit!” Lena smiled and winked at him.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” McCree said, a wolfish grin on his face that made Hanzo chuckle.

“Look, Winson,” Lena said, pointing at the footage on the television. “That’s when you grabbed me and launched me against them. It was so cool, just like old times.”

“I have to admit,” Winston evil laugh surprised everyone. “It was fun, and we stopped them.”

“Tracer, ya’ startling Widowmaker an’ stealin’ her weapon, I bet ya’ pissed her smart right,” McCree said, laughing.

“She had it coming,” Tracer laughed.

They all looked at Dr. Ziegler, repressing a smile and narrowing her eyes at them as though she wanted to be the adult there, but a pinch from Genji at her side made her giggle, and she yielded to the nice mood. “Fine! my favorite part is when you got angry and smashed Reaper all over the place,” she said, smiling.

“That is always satisfying. He stepped on my glasses,” Winston said, taking out from his pocket the remains he will have to put together in the morning. “Nobody steps on my glasses and gets away with it.”

While they kept talking about the fight between smiles and chuckles, forgetting briefly about the consequences of their actions, McCree turned to look at Hanzo, who leaned forward, his gaze lost far away. He rubbed his back.

“Yer too quiet,” McCree whispered and Hanzo turned around to smile at him.

“I am not used to this,” Hanzo said. “I feel like I belong.”

“’Course ya’ do, sweetheart,” McCree said, winding an arm around his shoulders and kissing his temple lovingly. “I’m as happy as a puppy with two peckers with ya’ here.”

Hanzo chuckled and landed a soft kiss on McCree’s grinning lips when he realized the whole team was looking at them with surprised and tender smiles. He felt the red come up his cheeks and quickly cleared his throat, cursing at Genji’s smug smile.

“Can’t a man get some sugar here or what?” McCree said, laughing and freeing Hanzo from the attention of the others, who resumed their conversation.

“You know what I saw when I looked into those kids faces?” Lena said to everybody. “Hope.”

“Someone told me not to accept the world as it appears to be; told me that I should dare to see it for what it could be,” Winston said, smiling at the memory. “That’s why I initiated the recall. We’re not criminals, they tore our family apart once and I won’t… we won’t let them do it again.”

“We won’t, Winston,” Angela said, grabbing his hand.

"The world needs us now more than ever,” Winston finished.

“We’re with ya’, partner,” McCree said, tipping his hat.

“Until the end,” Genji said.

“No matter the consequences,” Hanzo said, joining into the cheerful atmosphere that embraced them all.

“The world could always use more heroes,” Tracer said, winking at Hanzo and jumping around like the nervous and restless girl she was. Overwatch was back. Even though most of his members where no longer among them or hadn’t answered the recall yet; they were back to fight the bad guys, and they will do it together despite the hurdles they will have to face from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will be back in London next chapter! <3 (more fluff and smut coming lol)


	17. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives in London and they have time to themselves before the mission, though McCree has an unexpected encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, smutty chapter, NSFW! <3

_London, 2076_

Seemed like an eternity ago the last time he had been in London instead of weeks. Overwatch, a new mission, Jesse, and Genji, it all felt so right to Hanzo. He and McCree were at _Bell Fish and Chips_ having a beer and a well-deserved meal while Genji and Dr. Ziegler checked in at the hotel. Athena had made reservations for the four of them separately to disguise their presence in King’s Row.

This time, Hanzo will have to share the bed with McCree but in very different circumstances than in Dorado. He was used to waking up with him by now; as though he had been doing it for years. The cowboy winked at him from the other side of the table and woke him up from his reverie.

“A penny for your thoughts,” McCree said, chewing down the last bite of his plate, leaning on the chair and stretching discreetly.

“I bet Genji and Dr. Ziegler checked in as a couple,” Hanzo said.

“I bet they were both beet red,” McCree chuckled, but Hanzo furrowed ready to tell him what was really on his mind.

“This mission has me worried,” Hanzo said. “I do not like when civilians are mixed in a conflict.”

“Same here, sweet pea,” McCree sighed. “But we’ll manage.”

On their way there Hanzo noticed the front of the buildings displaying openly hate messages at the omnics: S _crap_ _all robots_. _Omnics_ _stay_ _underground_ _._ It was heartbreaking how quickly everything had gone to hell after Mondatta’s assassination. Genji’s master, Zenyatta, had provided a map of the Underworld that in the wrong hands could be a breach in their security. He trusted Genji more than Hanzo had imagined, and now he wanted to meet the omnic. Another person he would have to thank for taking care of his little brother.

Hanzo smiled at the silly face of the cowboy, finishing his beer while checking his phone. By now, the archer knew he has fallen for McCree irremediably. He feared a day when they would part different ways, as anything good he had in his life until now, but Hanzo also treasured these moments in his heart. The cowboy was a healing presence that made him feel alive and worth loving.

McCree lifted his eyes from the screen and smiled back at him. How did this flirty cowboy break his walls so easily? Walls he had been building for years, shielding him from the world, and the feelings and emotions that overwhelmed his mind and soul. He tore them apart with that smile and those kind eyes, the loving hands he didn’t deserve, and the dearest words whispered in his ear every night.

Hanzo wondered if there would be a day when he could make McCree understand how much he meant to him, how an impact he had in his life. How he had changed him forever and helped him heal old wounds. One day.

“We should head back,” Hanzo said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Greasy food was not his favorite, but Jesse was so excited he couldn’t say no to him.

“Genji says they’re already in the room an’ that we can meet again tomorrow to go over the details,” McCree said. “I bet they’re already banging.”

The hearty laugh McCree loved to bits filled briefly the atmosphere, and the cowboy melted; he wished he could make Hanzo Shimada know he was the most enrapturing creature when he smiled, and that he wanted to make him smile, and laugh, and moan for the rest of his life. Because the cowboy was not the one to fool himself upon those things, and he knew he was deeply in love.

They walked hand in hand the short path between the restaurant and the hotel until Hanzo grabbed his arm and rested his head on his shoulder to shelter himself from the cold of the city. A grin showed up on McCree’s face. This was happiness, in the middle of a city lost in the hate and the violence, but the world still had love. _They_ had love. They looked like any other couple heading for their hotel, two light bags in each hand but tangled into each other.

McCree opened the hotel door politely for the archer followed by a sweet _after you_ that made Hanzo roll his eyes every single time, knowing the cowboy too well to expose his true intentions.

“You only do that to look at my backside,” Hanzo whispered, admiring the spacious hall presided by a sumptuous chandelier and a burgundy carpet.

“Took ya’ a while to find out,” McCree chuckled, walking alongside Hanzo.

The hotel was luxurious, in the middle of the city, part of the old town in an upscale neighborhood of London. This area was wonderfully preserved, from the cobblestone streets to the classic aura of the establishments. The rest of the city grew outward, surrounded by the highest skyscrapers.

“You are so obvious,” Hanzo said, while the cowboy’s naughty hand sneaked behind him to knead his ass playfully.

“I have a soft spot for you,” McCree whispered into his ear with a husky voice and a wolfish grin that sent a jolt through Hanzo’s spine. The cowboy, satisfied with his blatant flirting, leaned on the reception desk.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a young man greeted them.

“My husband and I had a reservation,” McCree said, glancing at Hanzo. The archer blushed at once, but a smug smile appeared on his face when he gripped his arm and leaned lovingly against McCree’s body.

“May I have a name?”

“William Munny, at your service,” McCree said, touching the brim of his hat and repressing a chuckle at the strong grip from Hanzo.

“Here’s the key for the room 239, breakfast starts tomorrow at 06 00 AM. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“We’ll be fine,” McCree said. “Second honeymoon, ya’ know?” the cowboy winked at him who smiled awkwardly and Hanzo snorted, clawing his fingers on his arm a bit too harshly.

“Enjoy your stay,” the man said.

Hanzo waited to be in the elevator to openly laugh at the cowboy’s sauciness, his cheeks still flushed by the show he had put in front of the poor receptionist.

“I am not even wearing a ring, Jesse,” Hanzo said, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest.

“Ya’ don't need a ring when ya’ have my heart,” McCree said, trapping Hanzo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He could drown in those black eyes anyday and die a happy man.

“You make me laugh way too much, cowboy,” Hanzo said, sighing.

“I lov… like when you love, I mean laugh,” McCree cleared his throat. “Dang.”

Hanzo stood on his toes to kiss the cowboy’s lips softly, letting his tongue out to tease the parted lips and drink the moan that left his mouth. Flirty and shameless, McCree was a romantic, and he could tear him apart with small and unexpected kisses, with a gentleness that let him starving and aching for more. He was so sweet. This was like nothing he had experienced before in his life, maybe when he was a teenager and knew nothing about love or boys when everything was new and exciting. It was even better now.

The elevator beeped when it reached their floor and interrupted the kiss. A blushing McCree picked the two luggage bags while Hanzo guided them to their room and opened the heavy door, walking into the spacious room. Familiar with the smell of hotel rooms and aseptic spaces, Hanzo took off his coat and abandoned it in a nearby chair.

In a moment, McCree pulled him into a hug, pressing his body at his back and stealing a surprised grunt from Hanzo. The archer leaned back into his embrace, and a mischievous smile spread on his lips when he noticed the swell in his jeans.

“If ya’ think ya’ can kiss me like that an’ leave unharmed yer very wrong, sweetheart,” McCree said, nuzzling behind his ear. Hanzo lifted his right arm to reach for the cowboy’s head, dropping the hat to the floor and tangling his fingers in the messy hair.

“Insatiable cowboy,” Hanzo teased, moaning at the wet kisses and soft bites McCree spared on his neck while his rough hands trailed greedily his chest.

“It is yer fault, have ya’ look at yourself in the mirror lately?” McCree said with a deep growl that stirred Hanzo up.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, almost chuckling while the cowboy hummed. “Are you squeezing my pecs?” McCree chuckled in the middle of a bite and traced Hanzo’s nipples over the shirt until he felt them hard and the archer writhed under his arms.

“An’ I reckon ya’ love it,” McCree teased, taking a nip at his earlobe and ungently twisting the hard tips between his fingers eliciting a moan from Hanzo.

His right hand traveled down his navel to sneak inside Hanzo’s jeans. The button gave in at the intrusive hand and the archer bit his lip when McCree’s hand palmed his already hard cock. There was nothing better than getting lost in his hands and his mouth while he unconsciously rutted his ass against McCree’s groin, feeling the hard bulge.

“Oh, darlin’ I can’t wait to…” McCree said when the phone in his backside pocket rang. “Shit.”

“Take it,” Hanzo gasped, but pressing his body against the cowboy while he mumbled a curse and answered.

“McCree here,” he said, recognizing the number on his phone too well to be surprised. “Can’t it wait for a couple of hours? I have my hands full with something,” Jesse said, teasing Hanzo with his thumb running up and down the side of his cock, and the archer had to bite his lip to repress a needy whine. “Easy there, Olivia.” McCree sighed. “Yeah, see ya’ in a bit.” McCree kept his phone in his back pocket and nibbled Hanzo’s neck.

“I can finish what I started, honey,” McCree said. “I’d hate to leave ya’ like this…”

“I will wait until you come back,” Hanzo said, taking the cowboy’s hand into his and turning around to press a kiss in his neck. “Who’s Olivia?” Hanzo asked.

“Friend o’mine,” McCree said. “Are ya’ jealous?” The cowboy wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, please,” Hanzo chuckled. “I am curious.”

“I’ll introduce ya’ to her someday, she’s a good friend with a lot on her plate right now,” McCree explained. “It’d be dangerous to expose her.”

“I understand,” Hanzo kissed him. “I’ll have dinner with my brother and Angela and I am sure we will go over the mission’s details. I’ll brief you in when you come back.” Hanzo watched the cowboy pick up his hat from the floor with a grunt.

“Where have ya’ been all my life, darlin’?” McCree said, putting the hat back on his head and smiling widely at the archer.

“Waiting for you, cowboy,” Hanzo teased.

 

The streets were gloomier and colder while McCree hurried to meet Sombra at _The Fox and Bear_ pub. The city that had been bursting with activity during the day was dangerous at night, and people knew, that’s why it was deserted, even more when he left the _Eberle and Sons_ beer factory at the left. The underground was already closed, so he took the shortcut on the right and it got him to the pub’s secondary entrance; a lot more discreet than the main one.

The place had more people in than he had expected, maybe that’s why Olivia had picked it up. He inspected the faces around and the situation of the nearby exits, old habits, when he spotted a nice empty stool at the counter, but someone tapped his shoulder and he flinched.

“Hola, vaquero,” Olivia said from behind with a wide smile.

“Howdy, Olivia,” McCree greeted. The usual colorful clothes and accessories of the woman were black and, though she was smiling, it looked fake. She turned around to sit in a corner, in a comfortable green leather couch with a dark wooden table in front of it. Cosy corner of the place for sure. He left the hat on the table and joined her.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Good,” McCree said, the corner of his lip twitching up.

“Why do you look so happy, vaquero? Are you in love or what?” Sombra teased, chuckling already until she saw him rubbing his neck nervously. “Really? Who’s the lucky one?”

“Ya’ know who,” McCree said, signaling the waiter for another round of what she was having.

“No shit, you sure know how to pick them,” Sombra laughed, lifting his glass in a silent toast to the cowboy. It came out as a mockery, but McCree knew she was a little bitchy sometimes.

“Are ya’ here to snoop in my love life, Olivia?” the cowboy thanked the waiter with a nod and sipped his whiskey.

“Me preocupo por ti y así me la pagas?”

“I worry ‘bout ya’ too, sweetheart,” McCree said. “I wasn’t expectin’ to see ya’ here.”

“Well…” she lowered her voice. “I came to deliver somethin’.” The guiltiness in her eyes made him let out a disappointment grunt while he scowled at her. “Ya sé…”

“If ya’ keep playing with fire yer gonna get burned,” McCree growled at her. She was the one delivering the EMP technology to the terrorists, of course Talon was involved in this. And if they put money and effort to fuel a rebellion, the civilians will have heavy weapons and Talon operatives helping them. That complicated the situation, and he will have to drop the news tomorrow at breakfast.

“I have no choice, vaquero,” Olivia said. “Here.” She handed him something under the table, touching briefly his knee as though she wanted to take his hand. Her hands were soft and cold and he picked the small usb thingy. He trapped her chin between his knuckle and forefinger and moved her head.

“Olivia…” McCree reprimanded, and then the same hand kept the device in his pocket and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“That will deactivate the EMP, but don’t let anyone find it or they will track me down, just destroy it after you’re done,” she said, leaning back again on the couch and gulping down her drink. She ordered another one.

“Thank you, darlin’,” McCree said. “Will ya’ be safe? What’s going on?” Sombra looked more sarcastic than usual.

“I’m tired,” Sombra said. “Everybody fight for themselves.”

“It’s a damn messed up world,” McCree sighed. “Ya’ can always…”

“Come with you?” Olivia chuckled. “I still have things to do, and I won’t let them succeed.”

“Olivia for God’s sake! What are ya’ talkin’ ‘bout?” McCree said, frowning. That Talon wanted chaos around the world was the only thing that made sense in the cowboy’s mind, but Olivia mixed up with those terrorists was breaking his heart.

“Ay, tranquilo!” she complained, finishing her drink. “I’m planning on visiting Russia,” she said with a smug smile on her face.

“Am I gonna see it on the news?” McCree arched an eyebrow at her.

“Oh! I hope I make it to the news soon. You’ll see,” Sombra laughed. “Why didn’t you bring your chavo, vaquero?”

“If I had known you were so eager to meet him…” McCree said, giving up and assuming the conversation about Talon and her plans on Russia was a lost cause. It was like this with her and he won’t be the one to judge her.

“I hope he treats you right or I’m gonna mess with him,” Olivia said.

“Oli… I’ve never been happier,” McCree said, sipping his whiskey and then smiling widely.

“I can see that,” she said. “That’s the cowboy I like.” Sombra winked at him.

“I don't think anyone has known Hanzo truly except Genji, and now me,” McCree said. “He’s everythin’ I never expected to find.”

“You’re gonna make me puke,” Sombra said, pretending to be sick and making the cowboy laugh. “Can we stay for a bit just chatting? You can tell me more about the pretty thing.”

“’Course my dear,” McCree said. “Want me to tell ya’ how I stood in front of a truck out of control and nailed a headshot?”

 

McCree came back to the hotel late that night, Hanzo was probably already sleeping though all he wanted was to feel his touch and the warmth of his body over him before ending the day. It had been a good night, he and Olivia talked for a while, mostly about Hanzo and the good old times. Sombra was a good soul in spite of driving herself on her own motives, otherwise, why would she help Overwatch risking her own head?

He opened the door silently, a dim light illuminated the room, and he saw Hanzo on his boxers lying on the bed, reading a book serenely. McCree smiled while he took off his hat and serape and tossed the cowboy boots away with a grunt. The archer met his gaze and smiled too.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” McCree teased.

“I told you I would wait for you,” Hanzo said, roaming his eyes along the cowboy’s chest while he undressed. “Unless you are too tired.”

“Not a chance, darlin’,” McCree said, leaning near the bed to kiss Hanzo who tasted the whiskey in his mouth and the lingering smell of tobacco reached his nostrils. “I reek.”

“I do not mind when you reek,” Hanzo whispered, brushing his lips against his mouth.

“I’ma gonna take a shower then I’m all yours,” McCree said, grinning playfully and walking towards the bathroom.

“You better be fast, I grow tired of waiting,” Hanzo teased and heard McCree hop into the shower chuckling.

The smell of the pub and the smoke still lingered in his skin. The warm water was a blessing after the long trip and the long day, and McCree indulged himself too much under the stream, until he realized Hanzo was waiting for him and finished quickly his routine, wanting nothing more than Hanzo and that double sized bed they hadn’t had a chance to try properly yet.

Coming back to the room, McCree snorted at the image, the book slipped forgotten next to Hanzo while the archer huddled to a side, dozing. The cowboy picked the book and put it on the nightstand before lying face down next to him, stark naked, and smiled when those sleepy eyes opened to meet his gaze. Hanzo smiled and rolled over McCree to straddle him, pressing his torso against his broad back and sensing the warmth of the shower in his heated skin.

“I like when you get in bed naked,” Hanzo whispered into his ear, and McCree rested his head on his folded arms, relaxing under him.

“Makin’ your job easier, sweetheart,” McCree said.

Hanzo sat on his backside and pressed his hands to both sides of his body, leaning forward to share out kisses all over his back. He relished in McCree’s steady breath and shivers when his lips touched his skin between his shoulder blades. The archer traced a mean scar on his left shoulder with long fingers and then kissed the healed wound with loving lips.

His hands traveled free among the broad shoulders and the strong muscles of his back, finding old scars, kissing them, feeling them with his fingertips and wondering how much can a man suffer in his life before finding peace.

“If yer gonna kiss all my scars we’re gonna be here a while,” McCree teased, his voice husky and low.

“I wish I could kiss them gone,” Hanzo said, his lips brushing his skin meanwhile.

“They made me what I am,” McCree said. “An’ yer here to kiss them.”

“Then I will love them all,” Hanzo said.

The innocent caresses of his lips turned into soft gentle bites and strokes of his tongue that made McCree grunt and squirm underneath him. He purposely rocked his hips so he could feel the swell in his groin, restrained by the underwear, right into his naked ass. Igniting McCree’s raw instincts was a pleasure Hanzo indulge himself into very often, winding the cowboy up to see the enticing beauty of lust in his whiskey-colored eyes.

Hanzo let his tongue out to draw the outline of his ear and elicit a moan from McCree who lifted his head and yielded to the feeling. Hanzo did it again, this time followed by a soft nip on his ear, sucking at the lobe while his hands rested on both sides of the cowboy’s body.

McCree writhed under that mouth and those hands, and that hard cock teasing him enough to wake his desire and feel the uncomfortable sensation of his cock strained against his stomach and the mattress. He hugged the pillow and buried his blushing face on it, letting Hanzo bite and kiss his neck when he noticed something under it.

“What’s in here?” McCree asked and Hanzo chuckled. The cowboy groped under the pillow and chuckled too. “Ya’ naughty pie, keeping here the lube.”

“Handy, I would say,” Hanzo said, running his hands up and down McCree’s back.

“Yer gonna need it, and I want those briefs off because they’re offendin’ my ass with its presence,” McCree complained, handing Hanzo the bottle and glancing back at a smiling man behind him already getting rid of the unwanted underwear. Hanzo straddled him again, making sure his hard length teased between his butt cheeks. “Much better, honey.” McCree groaned.

“I am here to please,” Hanzo said, leaning over him to kiss his nape before sitting again and squeezing lube in his right hand, warming it up between his fingers. Hanzo was bursting with anticipation, his cock already dripping clear beads in the cowboy’s ass.

He motioned himself a little lower, his weight resting on his left arm while deft fingers ran up and down McCree’s butt cheeks, teasing his hole first, pressing a finger so slightly to outline and feel the clenching of the muscle at the touches on the sensitive skin.

McCree groaned and spread his legs a little, lying on his four on the bed. Hanzo knew he would be asking for more and muffling his whines into the pillow soon, so he put a finger inside him, pulling it in and out while his mouth peppered kisses and bites on his back.

His weakness was having McCree on top of him, fucking him senseless, but he loved when the cowboy surrendered to him; when he could make love to him in his own way, and he could show him how much he cared without words. And the dragons loved it too, taking and owning what they considered rightfully theirs, and the possessiveness of the spirits transferred to him, or maybe the other way around.

Hanzo added a second finger and listened to the cowboy moaning while his ass clenched around the intrusion. He waited until the soft rocking of McCree’s ass invited him to move, and he circled the inside of his hole, stretching him and softening the muscle. Hanzo bit harshly his back, his teeth leaving indents around the flesh and making McCree wail while a third finger joined the others. He would be a begging mess in no time, and Hanzo fucked him unhurriedly, knowing it, taking his time and opening him up for him.

“Yer driving me crazy, darlin’,” McCree said, impatience coating his voice while he removed the pillow from his head and the coldness of the sheets touched his cheek. Hanzo’s fingers felt too good inside him, and his cock throbbed against the softness of the bed.

“And you are beautiful like this,” Hanzo praised him, lapping the indents of his teeth while he pulled his fingers out and crawled down. He spread his butt cheeks to admire his work and smiled satisfied, glancing up at a blushing McCree turning his head to look at him needily.

“Sweetheart, please,” McCree said, watching the archer slick his hard cock with lube, cleaning his hand on the sheets after. The cowboy had a glimpse of the enticing want thrilling inside Hanzo, mirrored on those black beautiful eyes, and it clenched his stomach, wanting nothing more than the archer inside him.

Hanzo placed a knee near McCree’s hip and lay on top of him, his other leg extended along the bed and brushing the cowboy’s. He could feel his body writhing and bursting with want for him, but Hanzo liked to take his sweet time, and he kissed his back lovingly, rocking his hips and stealing moans from McCree whenever he teased his stretched hole with the tip of his length.

He made sure his aching cock slid along his crack pleasingly, blindly feeling his way inside the cowboy in a slow-motion movement that surprised McCree when the tip of his cock breached him. It slid inside effortlessly, and he moaned and wrinkle the sheets above his head with desperate hands.

“Do you like it?” Hanzo teased, his cock partly sank inside him while he rocked his hips in a slow tempo, letting McCree adjust to his width.

“I want…,” McCree gasped, short shallow breaths leaving his lungs while he arched his back and lifted his ass, trying to push another inch of that glorious cock inside him.

“Tell me, Jesse,” Hanzo whispered, keeping the same slow killing pace while he removed the tie on his hair and it fell like a cascade down McCree’s back and neck, tickling him.

“I want ya’ all inside me, honey, I can’t…” Jesse babbled, and Hanzo shoved his cock inside him in a single movement that stole a gasp from the cowboy, and then a satisfied _yes_ that tasted like glory to him.

Hanzo yielded to his own needs and thrust into him, pulling out almost all the way and pushing his hard cock in slowly, feeling all the way how McCree’s hole stretched for him, his width tightly wrapped by the warmth inside. The little whines and moans of the cowboy fueled his own pleasure and Hanzo let go.

“You are perfect, Jesse,” Hanzo whispered near his ear, increasing the speed of his movements while a thin veil of sweat covered his skin. “So perfect.” His own body enveloped the cowboy’s. Lying on top of him so he could sense his weight while he fucked him, so Jesse knew he was there to take care of him, to drive him slowly to the verge of his pleasure.

McCree moaned, the fullness of Hanzo’s cock inside him, his weight over him, embracing his body like a blanket, warming his soul and filling his heart with joy and pleasure. It was all too much. He liked being fucked, and being fucked hard, but the softness and the gentleness of Hanzo had him broken, defenseless and always wanting more.

He knew he made love like this, Hanzo owned you like this, and McCree surrendered to the lingering pressure, the unleashed burst of lust inside him, and the friction of the sheets on his neglected cock. Hanzo lost control at his back, his sweaty forehead pressed between his shoulder blades while his left hand, the one with the dragons, clasped his mechanical arm strongly and Hanzo gave up his control, shoving himself to the hilt into his lover over, and over again.

McCree arched his spine, Hanzo’s hard cock hitting that spot and sending jolts of pleasure that made his body tremble and crave for more. His swollen cock blessed every onslaught and the following brush against the mattress until the cowboy groaned Hanzo’s name like an endless mantra.

The archer spilled himself inside him as slowly as he had been building up his orgasm, just how he liked it, and he felt the exact moment McCree came when his hole clenched around his cock and pulsed repeatedly, his moans muffled by the mattress while he was still inside him, rocking his hips until they both relished in the last waves of their release, panting.

McCree turned his head around, looking for him, and Hanzo’s lips found him hastily while they both melted into a kiss that said more than any words that had left their mouths. Swollen lips smiling into the kiss, thirsty for the other, for the pleasure shared, and the intimacy of their bodies still joined.

“Don't go anywhere, my dear,” McCree said, breathless, when Hanzo pulled out of him, ready to go to the bathroom to clean themselves. Instead, the cowboy turned around and tackled him on the bed, and they both rolled side by side, while McCree nuzzled at the back of his neck and Hanzo chuckled lazily.

“You are irremediable, cowboy,” Hanzo said, yielding to his hug and relaxing into his arms.

“I want ya’ here. I want ya’ close to me until we fall asleep,” McCree murmured.

“I am not going anywhere,” Hanzo said, snuggling against him, breathing deeply, and feeling safe and loved. He hoped McCree would feel the same, well, he knew. The dragons knew. The cowboy always fell asleep first and was that moment the one Hanzo treasured the most when a man that had suffered that much in his life was happy and satisfied with him between his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the boys are getting cheesy... <3
> 
> Next chapter:
> 
> “You know, smoking's bad for your health,” Dr. Ziegler said, scowling at him as though that would prevent him from enjoying the peace of mind the nicotine gave him.  
> “Well, I have faith ya’ can get me patched back up, doc,” McCree said, grinning while a cloud of smoke left his mouth.


	18. Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon operatives try to release an EMP into the Underworld and Overwatch needs to stop them.

_London, 2076_

McCree had informed the others that morning about what Sombra had revealed to him last night, and the news had set a weird feeling in the group about the upcoming mission. Last minutes changes were nobody’s cup of tea. They had no way of knowing who Olivia was or that she was part of Talon’s organization except for Winston. He needed to be openly honest with him in exchange for his trust on the information she provided.

So far her intel had been priceless, meaning what Athena and Winston had gathered plus Sombra’s EMP blocker gave them an obvious edge against the terrorists trying to pull off the operation. The only thing that puzzled McCree and Winston was the interest in Talon in rekindling the conflict between Omnics and humans. What was there for them? His attempts so far showed a lack of conscience when it came to human or omnic lives, but the real reasons escaped their mind.

McCree glanced at Hanzo and Genji reviewing thoroughly the holo map and the assigned positions again while he wrapped himself up in his serape and lit a cigarette.

“You know, smoking's bad for your health,” Angela said, scowling at him as though that would prevent him from enjoying the peace of mind the nicotine gave him.

“Well, I have faith ya’ can get me patched back up, doc,” McCree said, grinning while a cloud of smoke left his mouth.

“It will be hard to stop them once they reach the entrance to the Underworld,” Genji explained.

“Angela and I will wait in a hideout near the _Eberle and Sons_ factory, if that is okay with you, doctor,” Hanzo said.

“Very well,” Dr. Ziegler said.

“Genji an’ I will stalk the payload to get an idea ‘bout their numbers before we jump into anything,” McCree added.

“Must violence always be the solution?” Dr. Ziegler complained. Her main worries had been about the civilians involved in the terrorist attempt too.

“We will avoid casualties, but first we need to know exactly what we are fighting against,” Genji said, holding the blocking device in his hand and keeping it secure in a compartment of his cyborg ninja armor.

McCree winked at Hanzo and stole a half-smile from him before the two parties left to opposite directions. Angela and Hanzo found quickly a spot in front of a pub and a bookshop where they could watch the street in front of of them. Infiltrating the beer factory was easy, the good doctor had more than one trick hidden in that Valkyrie suit of hers, and she surprised Hanzo when he climbed the front of the building and she flew right at his side in a moment.

The place smelled of old wood and brewed alcohol, and the walls were stuffed with hundreds of barrels waiting to be bottled. Hanzo leaned on a wall close to a nearby window and drew his bow, studying the angles of the street while Angela checked the comm channel once more and inspected for nearby exits in case they had to escape. They worked efficiently in quietude, and he got a sense that Dr. Ziegler was in the battlefield as perfectionist as in the medical field.

The plan seemed easy to follow; they had to stop the payload, disable the EMP and nullify the small force that will be protecting the operation. And still, Hanzo was uneasy, the dragons tingled too much, feeding up from his own emotions which didn’t improve the situation at all. Loud steps on a nearby hall alerted Hanzo, who signaled Angela to stay behind the enormous coppery distiller that crowded the space.

Hanzo pressed his back against the wall near the doorstep and listened to two pairs of footsteps patrolling the area. The chances of them being mere guards were high, but his instinct told him they were not friendly.

“Heavy armored operatives,” Angela said through the comms and he nodded at her.

Taking an arrow from his quiver, Hanzo attached the nock to the bowstring, the _mitsugake_ in his right hand securing it firmly while he waited for the perfect moment to reveal himself and take down at least one of them quickly. Angela nodded, still hiding behind the distiller, but with a clear view of the hall.

The noise signaled they were close enough, and Hanzo stepped in their line of fire. He pulled the drawstring skillfully and released a certain arrow that pierced the armor and the heart of the man on the right. Hanzo took another arrow while the other thug fired a burst with his assault rifle.

The pain crushed him unexpectedly, one of the bullets grazed his left arm, but the archer ignored the pain and a second arrow pierced the man’s neck. A guttural growl of pain filled the atmosphere before the man dropped dead on the ground next to his partner.

They were armed as Talon operatives would be, but they were not heavily trained. The organization seemed to hire expendable troops, meat to get the job done. Hanzo grunted and held his left arm, more aware of the pain, but Mercy was already standing at his side inspecting the wound. His handy jacket was ruined, even more, when the doctor tore the sleeve to check closely the bleeding surface.

“We haven’t seen civilians, only Talon thugs in black armor an’ heavy weapons,” McCree informed through the comms.

“We know,” Hanzo grunted in pain while Angela used the caduceus staff to close the wound and relieve the pain, and soon the archer sighed. “We took down two of them.”

“Are ya’ alright?” McCree asked.

“He’s fine, nothing I haven’t already taken care of,” Dr. Ziegler said, satisfied at her quick job.

“There are more patrolling the area, I’ve taken down two, but they had alerted the others and the payload is still moving,” Genji said. Hanzo pondered the situation. If they could take down the operatives from the shadows, they still had time to stop the EMP. They were outnumbered, so a face-to-face confrontation would be suicidal.

“Rendezvous at the underground entry near the back alley,” McCree ordered, and Hanzo smirked, he had followed the same track of thought. “Be careful ya’ two, Genji an’ I got separated.”

Hanzo moved his left arm doubtful, the pain, and the wound had disappeared as if by magic, and he tilted his head to thank the doctor while Angela unholstered her blaster to check the ammunition. They both headed to the window that allowed a clean sight to the street and waited for the enemies to show up.

The archer, worried about future surprises, used a sonic arrow at the end of the hall to alert from upcoming operatives taking that route. A handy trick that had saved his life more than once.

He spotted another two men patrolling at the farthest end of the street, and grasping tightly the bow grip, he tensed the string and aimed carefully, not having the luxury to miss an arrow, even though he had retrieved the ones used before. Right before releasing the projectile he felt a jolt ran through his limbs. The arrow left his fingers and reached his target, the man struggled to breathe at first, and then fell on his knees while the other, instead of taking cover, tried to aid him. Hanzo smirked, and the second arrow pierced his neck. Another life taken by the soul of a killer, but this time with a purpose.

“The dragon awakens,” Hanzo whispered, glancing back at Dr. Ziegler and the blue stream that connected his body to her staff.

“Damage tether. Pretty useful to guarantee a success,” Angela said, reassuring Hanzo while they covered the street.

 

McCree had lost Genji two streets ago, but it didn’t worry him. The ninja was probably getting there faster on his own using the buildings to his advantage. The cowboy followed the payload without being seen from a parallel alley and hurried to the next street that connected with the one Hanzo and Angela were covering.

He spotted a Talon man leaning on a wall with a carbon fiber arrow stuck on his neck and the cowboy smiled, knowing Hanzo was doing his job more than fine. The more he took down now the better for all of them. He left the body behind and pressed his back against a wall when he heard someone coming up from the street in front of him. The man fell on his knees with an arrow at his back and McCree chuckled.

“Leave somethin’ to me, sweetheart,” he said through the comms and waited for Angela’s lecture about the importance of the mission and how wrong was to kill people. Meanwhile, he continued lurking the back alley to reach the underground entrance and flank the payload from behind.

McCree leaned on a moldy wall and lit a cigarette. He signaled the others that he was in position and ready for orders. Overwatch worked as a team, but the chain of command was no longer applied; they were all considered equals, and they respected everybody’s opinions. It was working well so far, but Genji, Angela and he had been working together for so long it wasn’t surprising they were used to each other way of thinking.

His impatient got the better of him and McCree climbed the stairs in the nearby building to take high ground and get a sense of where the payload was. He walked as silently as he could with Peacekeeper in hand, just in case, when a thug surprised him and crushed his upper lip with a mean jab.

McCree only had time to see a shadow before it was already too late. The pain clouded his vision, and he felt the warm blood pour down his beard freely. The same elbow hit him in the stomach, stealing momentarily the air from his lungs, but the cowboy was resilient and had been through worse. He hit the fan of his weapon unloading the whole cylinder into his attacker.

“Bastard,” McCree mumbled, knowing everyone on the streets had surely heard the shots, endangering the mission. He spat a mouthful of blood near the corpse and gave a heads up to the team, reloading quickly his weapon and expecting trouble. At least he saw the payload heading right to the street they wanted.

 

The vehicle with the EMP showed up at the corner of the street and Hanzo and Angela crouched each at a side of their hideout. Hanzo had time to count the five men McCree and Genji had mentioned before with a quick peek outside, but he couldn’t risk giving out their position shooting arrows now.

Hanzo and Dr. Ziegler walked silently to the other exit, past the distiller to a metallic footbridge where they could see the entrance to the subway on the right and the Underworld in the front. A glowing red atmosphere reigned in the place, but it looked deserted. When Genji had asked for Zenyatta’s help, the omnic had used his contacts to warn the omnics and organize them in a non-violent resistance. The last thing they wanted was another reason to ignite the flame of war in the city.

This was not a very transited area, the aura of the city disappeared to leave a factory-like sense as though it was a mere warehouse when it was really the home of many omnics. The street merged with a rudimentary iron bridge that allowed you to see the whole city from atop, a chaos of storage units that served as houses, dangerously arranged in a vertical structure that didn’t let you see the bottom of it, and Hanzo wondered how far below the Underworld extended underneath the big city.

If only Null Sector hadn’t attacked the city in the uprising. The negotiations between Mondatta and Major Nandah would’ve pulled through, and the residential area _Turing Green_ would be a reality. But this is all the omnics had left after the project was abandoned: an old power plant for a home.

Suddenly, the payload advanced to their right and the Talon operatives gave the order to open fire. The bullets flew around the place. McCree ducked behind the stairs and watched, helpless how his friend was cornered by the restless shooting of the assault rifles.

“Genji!” Angela gasped, pointing at the nearby roof where the ninja hunched, hiding behind a jumble of pipes, trapped under enemy fire.

“They saw him,” McCree yelled right into his ears, the worry obvious in his voice.

“I am cornered in…” Genji said, but the comms fluttered by the noise of the bullets against the metal of the pipes. Hanzo felt his heart sped up, he hadn’t come all this way to lose his little brother now.

“He needs my help,” Dr. Ziegler said, looking intently at Hanzo.

“I will cover you, go save him!” Hanzo said, leaving his cover to walk along the footbridge and into the Underworld. He had a perfect sight of the attackers, that entrenched themselves behind the payload, protecting themselves from McCree’s bullets who lost no time in assisting his brother. Hanzo threw a shower of arrows that alerted the enemies of his presence and they stopped shooting Genji to corner him instead. Angela took advantage of the distraction and flew to the roof where Genji was stuck. She sighed in relief the moment the doctor saw he was fine, and the firepower seemed to be focused on Hanzo for now.

“Let’s get you back out there,” Angela said, connecting her caduceus staff to Genji's suit. He had taken superficial damage, his armor was tough, but several bullets had pierced the plates on his right leg and that’s why his mobility was compromised.

“Angela…” Genji groaned, feeling better already by the effect of the nanobots. He cupped her face, and she smiled at him, even with the mask on he could hide nothing from her. Not anymore.

“I will always risk my life if you need healing,” Angela said, finishing him up and frowning when she watched the payload breaching the Underworld’s limits. They had little time left. “Go back there, your brother needs you.”

Genji nodded and, with renewed energy, he joined McCree on the ground level and watched, alarmed, the truck with the EMP stuck at the entrance. The operatives were trying to get it through but Hanzo was keeping them at bay. The ninja climbed to the gangway and left McCree behind shooting bullets left and right. He could see the concern in his eyes about Hanzo and his compromised position, but he let the rage fuel his shots, though the men were mostly covered by the payload and the nooks inside the Underworld.

 

Hanzo was trapped there. There was no going out without cleaning the way out from Talon’s men. The dragons felt his distress and growled angry, ready to be unleashed but Hanzo waited, he could see McCree and Genji trying to get to him.

“I am fine,” he said through the comms, but the EMP interfered with the channels and all he could hear was static. He saw his brother in the upper ground, opening a path to his position.

The archer ducked behind a crate atop the platform where the gangway had led him. A perfect place to snipe his enemies but also a dangerous one. There was only one way out and the payload advanced slowly but surely. The dragons would come to his help as they always did. He fetched an arrow, his tattoo already glowing a mystic blue light, a telltale of what was to come while he stood, ready to release the spirits inside him.

“ _Ryū_ _ga_ _waga_ _teki_ _wo_ _kurau_ _!_ ” Hanzo shouted, and the dragons roared, echoing in the place while the defenceless Talon operatives tried to run, terrified at the two unmerciful creatures that washed them in a bloodbath, stealing the lives inside them.

Genji saw with pride the two impressive creatures once more, delighted at the amazing power his brother controlled. He was close to him, he just needed to dash to the structure his brother was into and they could finish the mission together.

But the payload kept going, the vehicle was out of control and the slope led the heavy truck right into the base of the structure, shacking the foundations. The whole thing stumbled, and Hanzo lost balance. Genji watched horrified how his brother fell to a death sentence. He saw him stumble by the impact and fall into the precipice to the Underworld. No one could survive that fall.

“ _Anija!_ ” Genji screamed, a fearful cry directed to Hanzo. To his older brother. He didn’t hear the yelling of McCree through the comms, he dashed and dodged the now flipped and ruined payload. Hanzo had to be okay because he hadn’t come all this way to lose his brother now.

McCree’s heart stopped when Hanzo’s body fell from the platform into the emptiness of the city underneath them. And then he ran, jumping over the dead bodies of the men the dragons had killed. He ran because he feared the worst, his lungs burning at the lack of air. He selfishly cursed his damn luck at the perspective of losing the only thing that made him happy. He won’t lose Hanzo even if he had to jump there himself to bring him back. Hanzo had to be fine.

Genji skid the last meters, falling to the ground to lean out the edge when Hanzo’s bow traced a curve in the air and dropped at his side, and he sighed in relief. He grasped his brother wrist, struggling to hold on to the edge of the cliff now with both hands. Genji helped him up quickly, happy to see his brother safe.

“You called me _anija_ ,” Hanzo said, the sadness in his eyes too clear to hide it from Genji.

“You are my _anija_ ,” Genji replied, hugging dearly his astonished brother for a brief moment before they stood and stepped away from the dangerous breach in the ground.

“But…” Hanzo hesitated. It had been a long time since he had heard that word come out Genji’s lips. He did not deserve the title of _older_ _brother_ , not after what he had done.

“I can call you _onii_ _-san_ if you want,” Genji teased, not realizing the impact of his words in his brother. Hanzo picked the bow from the floor and dusted his clothes as though he hadn’t been close to dying moments ago.

“Do not be ridiculous, you are a grown up man now,” Hanzo said, chuckling at his brother boldness.

“Thank God,” McCree said, panting and cupping Hanzo’s face lovingly. “You scared the hell out of me, darlin’.”

“I am fine, Jesse,” Hanzo smiled at the cowboy and the worried eyes that stopped at the broken jacket. The cowboy, concern about his safety more than his own. “You are the one bleeding,” Hanzo said, a feather stroke caressing the dried blood at the split lip of the cowboy.

“Let’s deactivate the EMP,” Angela said behind them inspecting the payload while Genji joined her, taking the small device from his pocket.

At this point, it seemed the police wouldn’t answer the call, especially not after the danger had entered the Underworld. A sad story that the omnics were really defenseless in the city. A small group of them came out from a sidewalk, hesitant but surely aware of who they were.

“Thank you, we will not forget what Overwatch has done for us today,” the omnic said. “We will take care of the debris, do not worry.”

Hanzo smiled while Dr. Ziegler and Genji talked to the grateful strangers, suddenly all the death around him seemed worth it. They had saved more lives than they had taken. But McCree grasped his wrist and pulled him into a close embrace, his mechanical arm circling his waist while the other pushed his head into his chest.

“Ya’ really scared the shit out me, honey,” Jesse murmured, pressing a kiss to the archer’s forehead.

“Jesse,” Hanzo whispered, glancing up at him, and landing a gentle kiss on his lips, tasting the blood on them, making the cowboy melt into his embrace.

“Honey, those were two big dragons, ya’ know?” McCree said, laughing and hugging him tightly as though he was scared he would run away from him. But Hanzo wouldn’t, he let the cowboy show him the love he did not deserve while his mind rambled about his little brother calling him _anija_ again. The pain of what he had done ten years ago still lingering inside him despite the good things in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is technically the last one because Chapter 20 is a short Epilogue ^__^
> 
> “It hurts,” McCree complained for the ninth time.  
> “Stay still. You are terrible, cowboy,” Hanzo said between chuckles.


	19. Dragonheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and Genji are still haunted by their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a NSFW scene at the begining then it's all SFW <3

_London, 2076_

They were back at the hotel room, Genji had sneaked through the window and Mercy had changed into more comfortable clothes to disguise their return. Winston welcomed the favorable report about the mission and wanted them all back tomorrow at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Talon achieved nothing tonight, the team disabled the EMP, no human or omnic lives were endangered and, though the night had its up and downs the mission was a victory.

“It hurts,” McCree complained for the ninth time.

“Stay still. You are terrible, cowboy,” Hanzo said between chuckles.

McCree had refused Dr. Ziegler’s help to heal his wound with the caduceus staff adducing scars made you sexier, which made Hanzo roll his eyes and secretly accept a balm from Angela to apply to him before going to bed. And there he was, Hanzo Shimada, a trained assassin, a wanted criminal, straddling Jesse McCree, bounty hunter and outlaw, whining and complaining about a split lip and making his task very difficult.

“That stuff stings like a bitch,” McCree mumbled, covering his mouth with a hand. “Ya’ ain’t putting it nowhere near ma’ face.”

“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo glared at him, or tried to because he snickered irremediably. He leaned forward, bracketing McCree’s hips with his legs and pressing his lips to the hand covering his mouth. “Let me kiss you at least,” Hanzo purred, brushing the fingers with his lips while McCree grunted and yielded, removing the only thing between their mouths.

Hanzo failed to suppress a smug smile while he kissed McCree, and even if the cowboy had a minor wound, he deepened the kiss and held him close with both his arms, humming a loving melody into his lips. The archer let him, opening his mouth to that sinful tongue teasing him.

His right hand fumbled for the little pot of balm and he soaked his fingertip into the cream, moaning to distract the cowboy. Hanzo assailed his mouth with an eager tongue, stealing a surprised whine and broke the kiss unexpectedly after, sharing out small kisses on his swollen lips while his left hand caressed the cowboy’s throat until McCree gasped for air.

Then Hanzo abused the moment of weakness and applied the cream to the wound. McCree let him, with a wolfish grin spread on his lips and eyes glittering with lust.

“I was just messin’ with ya’, my dear,” McCree said, stroking Hanzo’s small back with calloused hands.

“And you got a kiss for it, cowboy,” Hanzo said, smiling and cupping his face with both hands. Hanzo liked to tangle his fingers in the cowboy’s beard and watch the tender eyes of McCree while he did it.

“But it does sting,” McCree said, and Hanzo pursed his lips, blowing cool air in the split lip. “Thank ya’ kindly, yer a dream.”

“We should sleep,” Hanzo said, yawning and crawling down from McCree’s lap while the cowboy lay down and lifted an arm to accommodate him.

“I don't get why yer so sweet on me, darlin’,” McCree said while Hanzo nuzzled at his neck and played with the fuzz on his chest. The archer smiled at his words, safe and loved between his arms. How could he not be in love with McCree?

“There is beauty in simplicity,” Hanzo teased, landing soft kisses on the cowboy’s neck while dozing into sleep already, the little hairs of his beard tingling his nose.

“Remind me the next time I bought you buñuelos,” McCree chuckled, and kissed his forehead, knowing Hanzo wouldn’t last awake much longer. Neither would he.

 

Hanzo sensed the unbearable heat coming from his hands, covered in Genji’s blood. Red bloody hands eating away his flesh. He was again on that lonely street, the rain pouring heavily and blinding his eyes, masking the tears, washing the blood. A scream wanted to leave his lungs but it wouldn’t. The raindrops mixed with the blood, burning his flesh like acid. His brother was dead, and he had killed him. Genji was dead by his sword.

His own heartbreaking yell woke him up and Hanzo sat on the bed, panting nervously while he tried to remember where was he, where was the light switch and, when he noticed a movement behind him, who was with him. _Jesse_.

“Honey?” McCree’s raspy voice asked.

“The lights,” Hanzo gasped. “Turn the lights on.”

McCree quickly blinded them both and watched Hanzo crouched over himself and inspecting his hands thoroughly as though he needed to make sure they were still there. He hesitated for a moment, but then a warm big hand stroked his back shyly at first, Hanzo flinched, but then relaxed under his touch and sighed. Whenever he thought the nightmares were gone they startled him pitifully.

“I am sorry I woke you up,” Hanzo apologized, swallowing the heaviness of his soul to not cry.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” McCree said, his hand now circling Hanzo’s waist while his lips kissed his shoulder. His presence was like a blessing, reassuring the archer he was not alone, that it was just a nightmare from the past. A past that still haunted him.

Hanzo’s emotions roared in his chest while the dragons danced inside him, awoken by his rattled mind. He had to tell McCree. This won’t be the last time, and they hadn’t spoken about what he had done to Genji. Maybe it would be the last of their relationship, Hanzo was not worth the cowboy.

“You seemed fine earlier, darlin’, what happened?” McCree broke the silence, and Hanzo shivered in his arms.

“Genji called me _anija_ tonight,” Hanzo said, struggling to breathe. “It means… it is a Japanese title for an older brother.”

“That is a good thin’, sweetie, ya’ two need to get to know each other again,” McCree said.

“But I do not deserve it, Jesse,” Hanzo said, and glanced at him with watery eyes. “I go over what I did and I cannot find any of the reasons that led me to do such a thing.” Hanzo broke into his arms, and rested his head on the safety of McCree’s chest, unable to stand the pity look in his eyes. “I only remember the emptiness at losing my brother, the grief, the pain… that’s all I have left.”

“That ain't true, it doesn't matter…” McCree tried to comfort him.

“It matters,” Hanzo said. “I am and forever will be ashamed of my actions, of being a puppet who did not question himself until it was too late.”

“You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself, sweetheart,” McCree said, kissing his head, and stroking the long black hair he loved to bits.

“What you must think of me…” Hanzo gasped.

“Listen, Hanzo,” McCree said, taking his chin into his fingers and making him look directly into his eyes. Loving, tender whiskey-colored eyes that saw right through him. “I will never judge ya’. Ya’ were a man into a spiral of death and conspiracies and ya’ did somethin’ that changed your life an’ your brother’s forever, but that is not who ya’ are.”

“I have lived ten years believing it so,” Hanzo whispered.

“Ya’ have to forgive yourself, my dear,” McCree kissed his lips briefly. “I see who ya’ are.”

“Jesse…” Hanzo hugged Jesse with both arms, to nestle near the big heart of the cowboy.

“I know it’s hard to forgive others, but it’s even harder to forgive oneself,” McCree whispered, holding him tight and reclining back on the bed with Hanzo in his arms.

“Ya’ know when ya’ took care of me the other night I was sad ‘bout my parents?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said and hummed. He glanced up to look at him because McCree’s heart sped up and his breath rattled.

“I won’t waste a single day punishin’ myself for somethin’ I can’t change. Instead, I’ma gonna enjoy the family I have now to honor the one I abandoned,” McCree confessed with a sad smile on his lips. “Ya’ are my family Hanzo,” McCree swallowed.  “An’ Genji, an’...”

Hanzo reached for McCree’s mouth eagerly, melting into a kiss that meant to say so many things hidden inside his heart. Tears unavoidably escaped his eyes, and he tasted the saltiness in the kiss. He wanted to tell him that he was his family too, that he would be by his side no matter what, that he would be worth of his love.

Hanzo’s gentle kiss turned into a desperate one, a needy one when their tongues greeted each other and their hands looked for their bodies as though they’ve been looking for them for years of insufficient, futile lovers and meaningless souls; and now they craved each other. A lifetime starving until they had found each other. Hanzo straddled Jesse, longing for his touch.

McCree’s tongue traced his bottom lip before he bit him in the middle of a grunt, and Hanzo moaned in his mouth like an obedient lover would yield to his partner's lust: willingly. The insatiable physical need of the cowboy pressed firmly against his inner thigh, awakening the smoldering pleasure inside him.

“I am so thirsty for ya’ I scare myself sometimes,” McCree mumbled into his mouth, not wanting to break the kiss.

Hanzo spread his knees so their lengths could feel each other hard and eager for a soft touch. And the archer lowered both their underwears just enough while deft fingers wrapped both their erections together. Hanzo pulled McCree into another wet kiss. The cowboy joined his hand with Hanzo’s and they moved them together, enveloping their cocks and pumping firmly their whole lengths.

“Is this love, my dear?” McCree whispered into his mouth, hardly breathing.

“Has to be,” Hanzo said, unable to suppress the rocking of his hips, feeling his cock brush against the cowboy’s, wishing for more. He gathered the clear beads dripping with his hand and smeared them over their throbbing lengths, easing things while their clasping hands worked in unison.

McCree groaned at Hanzo’s movements, and his mechanical hand pushed his head down for a deep kiss where he assailed his mouth with a needy tongue, moaning and grunting for a deeper touch, a tighter grip. Just more of him.

Hanzo’s hard cock slid back and forth in his hand and on the side of his own pulsing length, driving the cowboy mad, and they found their tempo. Hanzo cried out his name when he came, and McCree felt the warm cum of his lover spilled on his swollen cock. He tightened the grip, intensifying the strokes, milking Hanzo dry and pursuing his own desire. He finally came too, joining his lover in the last remains of his orgasm.

They breathed the same air, drank the same moans as their come mixed and gathered in his navel, his trembling hands still fused together while they caught their breaths. Hanzo spread kisses along his jaw and lips, the split lip almost completely healed thanks to the balm.

“Let me stand and I will clean us both,” Hanzo whispered, knowing Jesse could perfectly tackle him in the bed and fall asleep not minding the mess between them, but McCree chuckled and nodded. Hanzo came back quickly and did as promised, lying next to McCree and finding the place that made his restless nights peaceful.

“I don't want to fall asleep if yer still sad,” McCree said, his husky voice suggesting he was fighting the weariness.

“My cowboy,” Hanzo said, nuzzling at his neck and clasping his hand with the cowboy’s. The mechanical arm so familiar to him by now. And McCree held him tight as he did every night, wishing him sweet dreams like the ones he scented in his hair because Hanzo Shimada smelled of sweet dreams to Jesse McCree.

 

The ORCA MV-261 was an impressive aircraft perfect to transport and deploy a team, even if this particular model had been abandoned at Gibraltar for several years, it was fully functional. Winston even brought back Ray, the old pilot at the base, as part of the crew. One of the handiest tricks of the ship was its ability to go unnoticed thanks to Athena’s integrated IA on board. The team would be in Gibraltar soon, but McCree was still concerned about Hanzo’s meltdown last night, though out of common sense, he hadn’t mentioned that to the archer who was on one of the seats nursing a coffee and filling the details from the last mission report.

While Angela chatted lively with Ray in the bridge, Genji focused on his datapad and McCree ambled toward him, bored to death even though the flight was short. The ninja wrinkled his nose and pouted, annoyed, and when McCree came closer, he found the reason.

“Though ya’ were working, not playing Hearthstone,” the cowboy said and sat next to him.

“I just lost a ten win arena,” Genji complained, closing the game and glancing at the cowboy. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, bored,” the cowboy said, reclining and sighing. “I still get the chills thinking about last night. That was a real fall.” McCree pointed to Hanzo with his head subtly.

“I know,” Genji said, meeting the cowboy’s gaze and realizing that it has been terrifying for both, seeing Hanzo fall and not knowing for a few moments if he was alive or not. “And I called him anija…” The ninja looked at Hanzo and his immutable stance while working.

“Ain’t that a good thing?” McCree asked, trying to understand why it had unsettled Hanzo.

“It came out without thinking because I’ve been calling him that my whole life,” Genji said. “It means older brother, but I am afraid I have brought bad memories back.”

“Why?” McCree asked.

“Because I have not called him that since… that day,” Genji said, his eyes sad and his gaze lost in the emergency parachutes in front of them. He recalled perfectly that morning arguing with Hanzo, trying to ease his older brother rage with words. How angry Hanzo was for not being what everybody wanted him to be. And later that day they… Genji shuddered, those were memories he had buried deep inside.

“I don't want to meddle but maybe ya’ two need to talk ‘bout it,” McCree said, watching Hanzo who had put down the datapad, closing his eyes and reclining on the couch.

“I will, Jesse,” Genji said, patting his knee. “You are a good friend, and a good boyfriend,” Genji arched an eyebrow at him and made him blush.

“For what is worth, ya’ two are doin’ great,” McCree said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you for taking care of Hanzo,” Genji said, knowing the cowboy was there for his brother.

“He’s the one takin’ care o’ me,” McCree chuckled and stood, squeezing Genji’s shoulder, leaving the ninja to his card game and walking towards Hanzo, who seemed to doze with his arms folded over his chest.

McCree took off his serape and sat as close as Hanzo as he could, watching the twitch of his lip when the archer felt his body at his side but not opening his eyes. He covered both with the cozy garment and grunted, getting comfortable at his side.

Hanzo leaned on McCree’s shoulder and snuggled into the warmth of his body and the serape covering them. His hand sneaked down McCree’s leg to touch his knee and his thumb traced circles on it while Hanzo stifled a groan and relaxed.

“Ya’ don't mind the holes of my serape now, don't ya’?” McCree whispered, pressing his head into the archers. He loved to bits that Hanzo was smaller than him and how neatly his strong body fit right into him. Hanzo chuckled and McCree kept pushing. “Keepin’ us cozy and warm…”

Hanzo pinched his knee and a hearty laugh escaped his mouth before he snuggled against him again. “How long until we arrive?”

“Half an hour,” McCree said.

“I think I will speak to Genji when we arrive,” Hanzo murmured. McCree kissed the crown of his head and rubbed his cheek on Hanzo’s hair, finding the perfect position to relax the rest of the flight.

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” McCree said. “I want ya’ to be happy.” Hanzo stiffened a smile and realized everything would be fine as long as he was with Jesse, as long as he had his brother and he could make up for lost time, as long as he had the cowboy at his side to keep his feet on the ground and his heart on the stars.

 

_Watchpoint: Gibraltar, 2076_

Genji walked back to the main building from the gym when he spotted Hanzo near the comm tower building. He waved at him and smiled, happy to realize his brother was with him again, and that a daily gesture like that could come out so easily. When he had gone to Hanamura to check up on him he hadn’t expected this. A real relationship with his brother, no more hate, no more clan or family matters between them.

It broke his heart Hanzo had spent the last ten years punishing himself for what he had done to him. He wished he had contacted him earlier, but remembering how much he hated himself, how much pain and regret he had stored in his heart, waiting seemed better.

His life was complete with his brother; he had missed him badly. Their life in Hanamura was a happy one. They had good memories of their childhood, but those teenager years were extenuating, especially for Hanzo, and the distance between them that led them to fight and led Hanzo to do unspeakable things was finally gone, they could move together to a new future where they could be brothers again, but Genji shook the thought and focused on the present.

The evenings were colder in Gibraltar, the sun barely warming as it disappeared into the choppy sea that reigned the coast. Hanzo had never found a place as peaceful as this one except for his natal home Hanamura. The archer saw his brother walking toward him and they both sat at the stairs near the radar. It was as though they both knew why he was there waiting for him, and, after a few moments of shared silence, Genji spoke.

“I am sorry if calling you _anija_  unsettled you, brother,” Genji said, rubbing the back of his neck and scratching the ports on his skin.

“I want to be your anija,” Hanzo said. “To merit the title again.”

“You do,” Genji said, glancing at him with a shy smile that melted Hanzo’s heart. Like when they were kids, and they played until exhaustion, lying under a cherry tree to nap and chat until hunger roared in their bellies.

“Why did you forgive me, Genji?” Hanzo asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I do not deserve your love or your forgiveness.”

“Because I know who you are. I’ve always known,” Genji said, closing his eyes for a moment to push the tears inside again. “Our father manipulated you, used you since you were a kid. Only for his own motives.”

Hanzo closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. He knew it was true. The training, the lectures, the indoctrination. Everything in his life had a purpose and one only: to lead the clan, to be the heir, a ruthless crime lord.

“I wanted to run away,” Genji said, his voice finally cracking. “And I did not go through the things you did, the things you endure until the very end, Hanzo. The things they made you do…”

“That is no excuse, Genji,” Hanzo growled. “It is not acceptable. I am a monster.”

“You are not,” Genji yelled at him, the tears pouring down his eyes. “You are my brother and they tortured you and used me against you, over, and over again until you were no more than an empty shell.” He paused for air, glancing at the sad eyes of his brother full of regret and pain.

“I remember, Hanzo. I remember how isolated you were, how you rejected everybody’s company, how lonely and broken you were while I…”

“Genji…” Hanzo said, unable to hold the tears that wetted his lips and tasted bitter and salty.

“I was too busy and too selfish to see what you were going through,” Genji finally said. “I fucked up too, I failed you too.”

“But I killed you,” Hanzo roared. “I killed you and it killed me.”

“We fought, Hanzo,” Genji scowled. “I wielded my katana too, I chose to fight you, and I lost.” This was the first time those words had left his mouth and Genji felt the burn in his mouth as he poured every single one of them. “I was so angry at you for being so blind.”

“I failed you, Genji,” Hanzo cried. “I failed us both.”

Hanzo shed the tears that drowned his heart while he and Genji melted in a hug, unable to express with words the hurt of their past; something that had changed both their lives forever, something they will have to overcome to find happiness. And they would because after all the pain they still had each other. They still loved each other.

“We are not those kids anymore, let us learn from our mistakes because I do not want to be without you, _anija_ ,” Genji said, pressing his forehead into his brother’s and smiling.

“Neither do I, Genji,” Hanzo said, cupping his little brother’s face and promising to himself not to fail him ever again.

“Strangely,” Genji said, pulling back from their embrace. “After all these years I have never felt more whole in my life than now. I met Angela, joined Overwatch, I became friends with Jesse and having you back in my life makes it even better,” Genji said, drying the tears from his cheeks.

“We are free and we have each other,” Hanzo said. “And I would have never met Jesse otherwise.”

“You are so in love with the cowboy,” Genji chuckled, drying the tears from his eyes.

“I am,” Hanzo confessed his badly kept secret and mussed Genji’s hair like a brother would do; like his _anija_ would. There was still hope for them, for a relationship, a family, a friendship that will overcome anything because the Shimadas were not only reunited but in peace.

“I love you, Genji,” Hanzo said, winding his arm around his brother shoulders.

“I know,” Genji said, smiling at those words he didn’t need to hear but filled his heart with glee.


	20. Epilogue

“I know where you’re taking me, cowboy,” Hanzo said, arching a questioning eyebrow at McCree.

“’Course you do, honey,” McCree chuckled, walking hand in hand with Hanzo through the maze of streets of the city of Dorado.

The last time they had been there things were so different it felt like a lifetime ago. They shared a knowing glance between them as though they could read their thoughts. Hanzo squeezed tightly McCree’s hand, and the cowboy paused briefly his marathon through the streets to give him a peck on the cheek.

A familiar turn they had once taken without realizing the consequences of his actions filled Hanzo’s heart with a warmth he was getting used to since the cowboy was in his life. And McCree, without saying a word, pushed Hanzo gently against the cold jumble of bricks, right in front of that wall that had witnessed the first spark in their eyes.

Hanzo flinched at the cold surface he had felt once but again, he didn’t care. Instead, he widely smiled when McCree rested his left forearm over his head and bracketed him against the wall with a wolfish grin on his face that spoke wonders to the archer.

“What are we doing here?” Hanzo feigned to be oblivious at the place where the cowboy had stolen his heart forever.

“I want to kiss ya’ here, my dear,” McCree whispered, placing his hand near Hanzo’s waist, and gasped when Hanzo grasped his serape to close the distance between them. One of the best feelings in the world to McCree was to feel Hanzo’s body pressed against him, the familiarity of a soul and a dragon that had ravaged every last bit of his being since the day he saw him. “I should’ve kissed ya’ that night.”

“Did you want to kiss me?” Hanzo teased, pouring the words into McCree’s mouth and feeling his heart already out of control.

“We had a wonderful first date, an’ ya’ deserved to be kissed, darlin’,” McCree said.

“So it was a date,” Hanzo chuckled.

“I was trying to get into your pants, sweetheart,” McCree teased.

“Such a romantic…” Hanzo murmured, his lips desperate for a stroke, his hand pulling McCree’s serape, but the cowboy stood still looking at him with the most love-struck eyes that will ever look at him.

“Look at ya’, so impatient,” McCree teased. “I saw ya’ closing your eyes that night, waitin’ for me to take what is mine, to…”

Hanzo stood on his tiptoes and silenced the cowboy with wet pink lips that yearned for him every day; for that sinful, filthy mouth that talked too much and he loved to kiss. The best kisses, Hanzo had found out, were those you can’t stop smiling, those that invite you to pour your soul on them and take your breath away in the process.

McCree trapped those sweet lips, sucking on his lower lip and waiting for the little whine he knew would leave Hanzo’s lungs. And then, he greedily pushed his tongue in a parted mouth that longed for him. McCree knew. He gave it all to Hanzo, as he would for the rest of his existence, from this little kiss to his life if necessary.

And they kissed until they were out of breath, and then they kissed more until red swollen lips could only feel each other. Hanzo gasped, loving how the cowboy never gave a rest, relentless in love as though he was in battle. And his, only his.

“You take my breath away,” Hanzo sighed, blushing at those kisses because he had never been kissed so eagerly until he had met McCree’s lips.

“Ya’ deserve to be kissed like that for the rest of your life,” McCree said, sparing small kisses on his jaw and down his neck, Hanzo irremediably trembling under his touch. “An’ I’ma gonna take care o’ that, darlin’.”

Hanzo wound his arms around McCree’s neck and smiled up at him, satisfied, the dragons purring happily inside him while he drowned into those kind eyes that suddenly lost their smile, the wrinkles on the corners gone. And he saw McCree’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Hanzo caressed with deft fingers the back of his nape, careful not to disturb the ever-present Stetson in the cowboy’s head.

“I love ya’, Hanzo, more than my life,” McCree whispered, saying the truest words that would ever leave his mouth to the man who will always rule his heart. And for the first time in his life, another, so many with Jesse, Hanzo said words he had swore they will never leave his mouth, words he had forgotten long ago, believing them not worth of his mouth or heart.

“ _Aishiteru_ ,” Hanzo said, unable to suppress the smile reigning on his lips and bringing the smile back to McCree’s flushed face, brightening that kind tender expression he lived for.

“I like when you get rowdy-dow on me in Japanese, honey,” McCree said, making Hanzo exhale that hearty laugh that made his heart beat faster and his world spin.

“Satisfied?” Hanzo teased.

“Oh, never, darlin’, but let’s not make Olivia wait or she’ll get grumpy,” McCree said, taking Hanzo’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Wanna grab something at Las Nieblas?” Hanzo stood for a moment, thoughtful, and then a mischievous smile brightened up his face.

“Perhaps two cakes,” Hanzo said enthusiastically.

“Two?” McCree asked, not surprised at his gluttony.

“One to take home and,” Hanzo chuckled naughtily. “One for a snack.” McCree laughed and then realized what Hanzo had said without noticing.

“Found your home, sweetheart?” McCree said, smiling at the archer’s words.

“You are my home, cowboy,” Hanzo whispered and sealed Jesse’s lips with a gentle kiss that said I love you once more because if Hanzo deserved to be kissed for the rest of his life the cowboy deserved to be loved.

“Allers,” McCree said, with a stupid grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I've been working on this for two months and, honestly, it has made me incredibly happy to write it.  
> Thank you all for your kudos and comments, you have no idea how lovely is to know someone else is enjoying what you write.  
> I apologize again for my grammar and my mistakes : )
> 
> Thank you so much! <3


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